


The Love You Make is Equal to the Love You Take

by Emrys MK (mk_malfoy), LFB72



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Boys In Love, Cancer, Endgame Arthur Pendragon/Merlin (Merlin), Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Lost Love, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Pining Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Pining Merlin (Merlin), Romance, Second Chances, Violence, hurt Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-06-08 16:18:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15247101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_malfoy/pseuds/Emrys%20MK, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LFB72/pseuds/LFB72
Summary: Three years have passed since Merlin was cruelly forced to leave Arthur under false pretenses. Now separated by the English Channel—Arthur in post-Edwardian England and Merlin in Les Années Folles of Paris—both are left reeling and resigned, with little hope of absolution, but when Merlin’s mother gets sick, everything changes. Merlin returns to Camelot, Arthur discovers how ruthless family members can be, and in the end…





	The Love You Make is Equal to the Love You Take

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Art: The love you make is equal to the love you take](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15725898) by [LFB72](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LFB72/pseuds/LFB72). 



> Katie, as always, did an outstanding job with the beta. I have changed several things since she last looked at this, so all mistakes are mine alone.
> 
> LFB is AMAZING! Having her art for me was like winning the lottery. Each piece she did left me in awe. This year has been especially difficult, so getting her regular art updates lifted my spirits and made me smile during a time there was little to smile about.
> 
> Many thanks to the mods for keeping this fest alive; writing for my second ACBB was such a pleasure.
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : These beloved characters are based on legends that have been passed down for centuries, but Shine and BBC own the show that inspired this work. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/mhkHk3M)  


[ ](https://imgur.com/hwmdSor)

_Happy New Year to me_ , a morose-and-not-at-all-jovial, looking-forward-to-what-1930-had-in-store Arthur mused mockingly as he sat in his motor and watched the comings and goings of the revellers who were partaking in the festivities surrounding the grand opening of _Royal Avalon Convalescent Home_ , Camelot’s newest hospital.

 _Newest hospital_ … 

Arthur shook his head in resignation as he watched a couple who were waiting their turn to get into one of several motors that had pulled up to where several groups were standing, awaiting their departure. As the driver exited and opened the back door, Arthur wondered what the man and his wife thought of the dwelling behind them that sat so very regally on her perch, keeping watch over her expansive grounds.

Had they seen the almost indecipherable writing on the ornate doors in the library that denoted the growth of the Pendragon children through the years? Had they noticed the indentation in the wall beside the hearth in the drawing room that had been caused—rumour had it—by his father? Were they even aware that a family had called that majestic sanctuary their home for the past five centuries?

No, they more than likely hadn’t seen those memorable markings that had defined pivotal moments in his family’s life, but they most assuredly were aware of the home’s history. Everyone in Albion knew of the Pendragon family. 

Nevertheless, _that history_ was in the past, was it not? This was the present—the here and now—and in the _here and now_ , the grand home was a place for the infirm.

In the most recent edition of the _Royal Camelot_ , the advertisingese, more specifically, the Lord Mayor, had lauded the establishment, declaring that such an institution was long overdue and that it would bolster an already bustling economy.

Arthur let out an indignant snort. It always came down to money, did it not? You either had enough of it or you did not.

Unfortunately, Arthur’s family no longer had enough of it; therefore the expansive estate that had once been his ancestral home was now host to the crème de la crème of society, all of them patting themselves on their backs for a job well done. They had procured prime real estate and now boasted a medical facility to rival the best in the world.

Arthur wanted to be happy that the people of Camelot now had a first-class facility to treat them when they were ill, really, he did, but all he could think about were all the future dinners and celebrations that his dear old home would never be host to again.

At this very moment he should be inside _Pendragon Estates_ , going through after the evening meal for drinks with the men as the women went off to do whatever it was they did after supper.

If he closed his eyes, Arthur could imagine sitting in his favourite chair, staring at the painting that hung over the hearth, the one of his great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather and his hunting dog, Judas, that Merlin loved so much. 

Whilst admiring the portrait and missing Merlin, Arthur would be sipping on a cocktail as he listened to the others whispering about the financial crisis in the States that was most unfortunately trickling into their world.

Arthur was doing neither of these things, however, was he? No, he instead found himself sitting in his Aston Martin, watching others come and go from his former home. 

He was almost glad his father was not here to witness this.

Uther Pendragon, the twentieth Earl of Albion, had reluctantly begun the process that was culminating today—it had been his pen that had wielded the transfer, and it had been his voice that had quivered when he shook hands with the Lord Mayor and other dignitaries and ordered them to take good care of his family’s home.

He had died six months later.

Had he not already been ill, Arthur would have said his father died from a broken heart, but if it were possible to do that, his father would have surely met his death thirty years before, when his wife’s life had unexpectedly ended after giving birth to their son.

No, people most certainly did not die from broken hearts.

Arthur was living proof of that.

Pulling himself out of these depressing thoughts, Arthur briefly wondered if his _highbrow_ uncle were inside, schmoozing with the others and accepting pats on the back for helping to make it possible for his brother-in-law’s ancestral home to be turned over to the Camelot Society. But did it matter?

Arthur turned away from the scene, started the motor, and listened to the engine warm up.

[ ](https://imgur.com/2ro9MbK)

Feeling displaced and alone, he wished Morgana were here with him, but it was probably best she was now living in Paris; if she were here, she would most likely have dragged him inside and made a right fool of herself, regaling the guests with the wonderful times that the dysfunctional Pendragons had experienced in the grand home that had been in their family for centuries.

Even still, Arthur found himself missing her terribly. She had a way of cheering him that never failed to work. He could so very clearly picture her and what she would say to him at this pivotal moment.

She would no doubt tell him to get over himself and go have a drink. She would also remind him that because of his inheritance, there was no reason for him to work, which meant there was no reason for him to remain in Camelot. 

She would then proceed to beg him to move to Paris with her and Gwen. 

And, after a dramatic pause in which she would look over her shoulder at Gwen, as if she knew she was going in for the kill, Morgana would gift him with her patent glare and add that there were also _other reasons_ for him to be in Paris and not Camelot.

As if Arthur did not know that.

Merlin. 

Always Merlin. Whenever Arthur had a second free where he wasn’t busy doing this or that, there was one thought that filled his mind, and, no matter how much Arthur tried to rid himself of such, it was futile. Merlin was as much a part of him as his right hand or his two feet.

But Merlin had decided that the life he had made for himself with Arthur in Camelot wasn’t for him and that he needed to be elsewhere. He had, of course, made excuses about his mother being _skint_ and him needing to make more money, but Arthur had seen through the lies. 

Merlin hadn’t wanted him. It was as simple as that.

That Merlin had lied was what hurt the most. Yes, Merlin had kept _things_ from him before, but those secrets were understandable because Merlin could and most likely would have been persecuted by others if they found out about his _gifts_. But he had always been forthright with Arthur about their relationship. To know he hadn’t thought enough of Arthur to tell him the truth hurt.

When he left, Merlin had taken Arthur’s heart with him, and that wasn’t at all an exaggeration. 

After being bereft and lonely for over a year, Arthur had attempted getting over Merlin by becoming involved with Lady Nimueh. 

That relationship had lasted all of two weeks. Two weeks too many by most everyone’s estimation. 

Almost from the beginning Arthur had an uneasy feeling. Nimueh having magic had not been a problem—Merlin had long ago rid Arthur of his fear of that—but her attempting to place him under a spell without telling him had been unforgivable. But even without that disturbing development, Arthur would not have been able to move on because he had no heart left to give anyone. His was in Paris with Merlin, and no amount of telling himself otherwise would change that fact.

Two years onward, Arthur had thought it time to move on and once and for all forget about Merlin.

As if that were a possibility. 

Desperate to do so, a few days earlier at a luncheon his uncle hosted, Arthur had been introduced to someone named Myror. Arthur had immediately been drawn to him. The two had talked for hours and could have continued if Arthur hadn’t needed to leave to attend another function.

As far as first meetings went, it had gone as well as Arthur had hoped it would. If all went according to his plan, he and Myror would have a second meeting and a third and fourth. And fifth...

Yes, Arthur was trying to be positive and think that the two could work, but he knew in the recesses of his mind that it was folly to believe such. Maybe not today or tomorrow or the next day, but at some point he would find a reason to say goodbye to Myror because he wasn’t Merlin.

It was all so very distressing.

Perhaps he was meant to be alone.

Well, not exactly _truly_ alone. He did have friends, such as Gwaine, and of course Leon, whom he was on his way to see now.

Leon had been with Arthur through both good and bad times. Out of all his friends, it was Leon who understood him the most. And, on those rare occasions where Arthur needed someone to be the voice of reason, it was Leon whom he could count on.

When Arthur received the invitation to the grand opening of the hospital three weeks earlier, Leon had advised him against attending and invited Arthur to The Rising Sun for drinks, which would be a _much better way to bring in the new year_. Arthur had declined, saying he would be less than ideal company, but Leon had refused to take no for an answer. He told Arthur to be a masochist and get that part of the evening over with before joining him for drinks.

The memory made Arthur grin.

Arthur put his car in reverse and backed out of the drive, careful not to veer off the edge nearest the gate—he had done that too many times to count, and once, mere days after his seventeenth birthday, he had driven into the gate when he accidentally pressed the accelerator rather than the brake. His father had been most displeased.

It had taken Arthur a year to work off the cost of a new gate, and he had spent many a day with the workers as they toiled to get the repairs done. If he thought about it hard enough, Arthur could see a younger him standing against the gate, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Ten minutes later Arthur opened the door, stepped inside The Rising Sun, and immediately regretted accepting Leon’s invitation. The air was thick with acrid smoke. It was absolutely ghastly.

How anyone could put those horrid things in their mouths was beyond Arthur.

Yes, he enjoyed his gin (he would be most disappointed if Avalon followed the example of the States and banned alcohol), and he had also recently become a connoisseur of cocktails—at the moment he was quite enamoured with the Aviation Fizz—but he had _never_ been able to stomach the fine art of smoking that had seemed to sweep across society.

Most of his acquaintances were avid smokers and never missed an opportunity to inform Arthur that he was missing out. Well, perhaps he was, but he would just have to forego that particular pleasure.

God knows he had somehow managed to give up the most important pleasure of his life, even if he was forced to do such. If he could do that, he could certainly stay away from a financially non-lucrative endeavour that resulted in deeming your surroundings uninhabitable.

Arthur found Leon and took a seat across from him, hoping this would be a brief affair. As much as he needed this escape, and as enjoyable as Leon’s company was, Arthur had slept fitfully the night before, and an early morning meeting the following day with his uncle would require him to be at his sharpest.

His wanting to leave sooner rather than later had absolutely nothing to do with this night being New Year’s Eve, which had always been his and Merlin’s favourite night of the year. 

And yes, Arthur often lied to himself. 

“I took the liberty of ordering your usual,” Leon said casually as he leant back in his chair and sipped his whiskey. The waiter set down a drink in front of Arthur.

Arthur inclined his head as he sat down. “You know me well, Leon,” was his dry response as his eyes roamed around the familiar room, his gaze landing on a table where a group of men were rolling dice. A heavy sigh and a barrage of unwanted memories assailed him, but he pushed them away. 

No need to think about Merlin and his magical way of always winning at the dice table.

The thought did cause a momentary smile because, really, Merlin was not at all subtle. Had he really thought he was fooling Arthur?

Leon cleared his throat and set down his Glencairn glass as he retrieved an envelope from his coat pocket. “The boy was pure gold at the dice, wasn’t he?” It wasn’t a question. “Speaking of Merlin, and I know you do not wish to, but this came in the post. I imagine he thought you might send it back unopened if he sent it to you.”

Arthur reached out a hand and retrieved the small envelope, wondering what he had done to the fates. “Why ever would I do that? I love the idiot; a letter from him is akin to the finest caviar,” he said petulantly, with a bit more sarcasm than he intended. Merlin really was more lovely than anything money could purchase. “And it isn’t as if he’s not written before. I have been benevolent with each and every correspondence of his, Leon.” Arthur needn’t add that none of Merlin’s letters had ever received a response. Leon’s penetrating stare said that and more.

Arthur leant back in his chair and slowly opened the envelope, sighing rather dramatically as he looked at Leon through his eyelashes when he chuckled. “Leon, my fine friend, do you think me the type of person to be so callous as to return a letter from my former lover, unopened? The truth, please,” he added when Leon opened his mouth.

Leon seemed to think on this question for some time, but eventually he shook his head.

Satisfied that his friend was a terrible liar, Arthur returned his attention to the parchment and slowly opened it. He noticed Merlin’s untidy scrawl and grimaced. Glancing up at Leon again, who was now studying the table much too intently, Arthur let out a frustrated groan. The last thing he wanted was to read words telling him about Merlin’s happy life, yet the first thing he wanted was to read Merlin’s words, whatever they might be.

 

_Arthur,_

_I have written to inform you that Freya and I have decided to go our separate ways. She has met someone who loves her with his whole heart, a feat I was unable to match. I am aware that this changes nothing for you and me, but I did owe the truth to you. I know you have moved on (Morgana assures me you have not, but I do not believe her) and care little about where my attentions lie these days, but try as I may, Arthur, I am unable to get you out of my mind. I regret every day that I moved to Paris, but at the time I truly thought it the only solution. It was the worst mistake of my life. However, what has come to pass cannot be unchanged, and that is for the best. I do believe this as much as it destroys me to admit such._

_Please accept my apologies for once again not adhering to our agreement regarding letters to each other; I am weak—I always was, at least when it came to you._

_Yours always,_

_Merlin_

 

Arthur read the letter three times more, becoming more confused with each read. He didn’t at all understand. Why was Merlin doing this? He had decimated Arthur’s heart when he decided suddenly to move to another country three years ago and promised to never contact Arthur. Now here he was writing Arthur and bringing old feelings to the surface again.

Not that Arthur minded Merlin writing; he had never asked Merlin to cease contact. But according to Morgana, Merlin had made that decision because he realised how devastating this all was for Arthur and he wanted to make the separation as easy as possible.

Well, so much for making the separation easy. Merlin might as well have included a knife in the envelope so it could stab Arthur in the heart and twist around a few times just to make sure it had done its job properly.

Maybe Morgana had got it all wrong; it would hardly be the first time. Whatever the case, what was not in doubt was that Arthur’s sister and Gwen were now closer to Merlin and knew more about him than Arthur. Of course, Arthur had no one but himself to blame as he was the architect behind that.

When Merlin had insisted on moving to practice medicine near a big city, where the pay would be more than it was in Camelot, Arthur had begged his sister (who, with Gwen, had moved to Paris after Morgana’s mother died and left her a substantial inheritance) and Gwen to ask Merlin to move in with them and had called in all manner of favours to get Merlin a job with a highly sought after medical firm.

As far as Arthur knew, Merlin thought it had all been a huge coincidence that things had turned out as they had, and Arthur was more than fine to leave it that way. He might never have Merlin the way he wanted him, but at least he could make sure that the man he loved was being looked after.

But caring for Merlin from afar was safe. Having Merlin write to him and admit that leaving had been the worst mistake of his life but that it had been for the best, well, that hurt and was most assuredly _not_ safe.

“Why can’t he just leave me alone, Leon?”

[ ](https://imgur.com/EEXxeev)

Leon was about to answer when _someone_ cleared their throat. 

Agravaine. 

“Hello, Uncle,” Arthur replied, little to no enthusiasm in his voice or on his face. 

The only reasons Arthur tolerated the man were because his uncle had been his mother’s brother, and because three years earlier Agravaine had surprised Arthur with his mother’s inheritance.

The latter had come as a complete shock. Apparently, his mother’s parents had been wise and bequeathed their daughter a large sum of money that she would not receive until her twenty-fifth birthday. Sadly, she died before that happened.

Agravaine had been evasive about the reasoning for waiting so long to inform his nephew about his inheritance. Arthur’s father had questioned the legality, but their solicitor, Aglain, had assured them that it was legal. He had, however, told Arthur to watch his back because he didn’t trust Agravaine.

Arthur had reluctantly heeded the advice—he had never thought much of his morally corrupt uncle, who had lived abroad most of Arthur’s young life—but he had never doubted that his mother’s brother would always be there for him. 

Merlin hadn’t been so sure and voiced his concerns not too many months before he moved. He had said that he thought Agravaine would one day stab Arthur in the back and take his money if he wasn’t careful. Arthur recalled telling Merlin that as questionable as his uncle’s tactics might be, he would never hurt his sister’s son.

Arthur still believed that, but he wasn’t as trusting these days and found himself keeping a closer watch on Agravaine. If the man was up to anything sinister, Arthur would most assuredly find out about it.

The money Arthur had received from his mother was substantial but had been nowhere near enough to maintain Pendragon Estates. So while Arthur had not been able to keep his home, he had been able to continue living the lifestyle he was accustomed to, albeit in a smaller home, with far less help.

This being the state of affairs, Arthur felt it his duty to be civil to the man. If not for him, Arthur didn’t know what he would be doing at this very moment, but he certainly would not be sitting in such a fine establishment as this.

Merlin would no doubt roll his eyes and tell Arthur he was too trusting. To which Arthur would say to Merlin that he was not trusting enough. Arthur could hear the back and forth good-natured bickering so very clearly.

What he wouldn’t give to be in a verbal sparring match with Merlin at this very moment.

“Pardon me, gentlemen, for interrupting, but I have only today received correspondence that Sophia and her father will be in Camelot in a fortnight for the Point to Point. I was thinking of asking them to stay at my home for the duration. Whilst they are here I was thinking it might be an opportune time for Lady Sophia and you to become reacquainted, Arthur. It has been three years since _Merlin_ left. It is time for you to resume your place in society. People are wondering when you will settle down with a proper young _lady_ , and you cannot disagree with the fact that she and you would make a dashing couple. When she last visited, you were fresh from the war and in no condition to court her, but several years have passed and the time has come for you to step into who you were born to be. You mightn’t have Pendragon Estates any longer, but you do have your title.”

Arthur glared at his uncle, who had his fake smile firmly in place, and shared a glance with Leon, who didn’t look any more pleased than him. Arthur had no intention of _settling down_ with anyone other than Merlin. And how dare his uncle bring up Merlin. 

Arthur smiled a fake smile of his own and told Agravaine he had a conference in Berlin in two weeks, but he would see if he could get out of it. 

His uncle need not know that Arthur had no intention of doing any such thing.

Once Agravaine took his leave, Arthur attempted to calm down as he wondered, not for the first time, why he allowed the man to get to him as he did. His father had barely tolerated his late wife’s brother and had been generous with his less than kind thoughts about him, which had most certainly left an impression on the young Arthur. But as infuriating as the man was, he had never done anything to hurt Arthur, so was it fair that Arthur thought so poorly of the man? Perhaps not, but life was nowhere near fair, was it?

Arthur had fought in a war where comrades died in his arms, and he had grown up without a mother.

It didn’t get much more unfair than that.

“So, how was the opening? You didn’t go in, did you?” asked Leon, thankfully rerouting Arthur’s thoughts, even if the new subject wasn’t much better than the previous.

Arthur downed the rest of his drink and looked towards the window wistfully. The volume of people passing by bode well for the annual fireworks display at the castle.

Wherever Merlin was this night, Arthur had no doubt that he’d be front and centre, ready for the colourful pyrotechnics. He always had acted like a kid on Christmas morning when the fireworks started. 

It was a painful thought. Arthur ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.

“No. I thought about it, but those people don’t deserve my wrath, Leon. It isn’t their fault that times have moved on and ways of life are changing.”

Arthur slowly returned his attention to Leon, who had not so long ago gone through losing his father and home, so he understood exactly what Arthur was now going through. “My father didn’t want this day to come, but he did tell me that I would have to accept it. He said that one day, home or no home, I would be an Earl and I needed to carry myself as such.”

Arthur let out a mirthless laugh. Yes, he was an Earl now. That was laughable. “How did you get through it, Leon?” he asked, curious how Leon fared without his former home, Essetir House, but with a title. It seemed ridiculous. What were they meant to Lord over if they hadn’t a home and land to do so with?

At least the peerage would die with him—or so he hoped. He honestly did not recall how that worked if there wasn’t an heir. He’d need to call Aglain and ask him.

“I didn’t have much of a choice, Arthur,” Leon replied, looking somewhat sad. “It was happening whether I wanted it to or not. I miss Essetir House more than I can say; like you, my home was my identity, but time does make the hurt of the loss fade. It will never leave either of us, but like me, you will find that life continues and that you will be fine.” Leon placed a hand atop Arthur’s. “I promise.”

Arthur nodded his thanks, but the smile he tried to force wouldn’t appear. “Until this morning I felt as if I still had an occupation. It was my duty, as it had been my father’s and his father’s before him, to make sure Pendragon Estates continued to provide a livelihood for us and the surrounding village. I was prepared to spend my life in this pursuit. Now, I don’t know what to do. I was groomed from birth for one role. That gone, I feel useless. What is there for me to do now?”

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/hwmdSor)

 

As usual, Merlin was running late, but it wasn’t his fault that the Johnson baby decided to come early, or that the Limerick girl had come down with a bad case of influenza. The life of a doctor wasn’t for the faint of heart, especially when said doctor was out in the middle of nowhere, not too far from Paris, but far enough where it was inconvenient to go into the city for medical care.

But Merlin loved what he did and didn’t regret for one moment choosing to practice medicine; he was thankful that his Uncle Gaius had instilled within him a love of helping people.

As he was led to his usual table in the corner of the quaint cafe, Merlin couldn’t help but watch the couple seated at the table across the room. He wondered how long they had been married. They looked happy and in love, and the way the man gazed at his wife… it made Merlin ache. He had once been on the receiving end of a similar look, and the thought of that never happening again, well, it was enough to send him reeling.

But Merlin couldn’t afford to think about Arthur. Not now.

The last thing he needed was one more thing to make him morose about today.

His usual glass of Cabernet Sauvignon was set before him. “May I get you anything else, Doctor Ambrosius?” asked a young girl Merlin thought he recognised. Hadn’t he made a house call to see her uncle a few weeks back? She obviously knew who he was, but most people around here did.

“Merci,” he said as he picked up the glass and appreciated the fruity aroma before sipping it. “I am waiting for friends, Drea,” he said, taking a chance that he had remembered correctly.

“You remembered my name,” the girl said, somewhat disbelievingly, but pleased if the huge grin on her face was any indication.

Merlin returned her smile. “I treated your uncle a fortnight ago. How is he?”

“Very well, thank you. I think he should be ready to travel in a week or two. It has not been at all easy keeping him at home.” She then turned to leave. “I’ll send someone over in a few minutes, once your friends have arrived.”

Merlin watched Drea walk away before he let down his guard and sighed. He was so very tired and wanted to go home, climb into his bed, and sleep for the next two days, but Morgana had summoned him for a late supper and, as Merlin had often found out, it was unwise to ignore a Pendragon. 

[ ](https://imgur.com/9fvSVsh)

He took the glass of wine and stared at it momentarily before taking a fair few sips in succession. If he were in private he would gladly down the glass in one, but he wouldn’t do that to Morgana and Gwen. There were certain _rules_ one was expected to follow if they were a friend of Morgana Pendragon, just as there had been when he was the lover of Arthur Pendragon. 

One of the most important rules was to not appear inebriated in public. _Appearances matter to people like us far more than they should, Merlin, but people want the dream; they don’t want to see reality,_ Morgana had once told him.

Merlin was good at many things, but holding his liquor well was not among them. His uncle had long ago said something about him and a barmaid. Merlin couldn’t quite recall what exactly he’d said, but it had been in reference to his nephew not being able to drink and conduct himself as a gentleman. 

Merlin was resolute in his attempts to prove his uncle wrong. He would be as gentlemanly as was possible, and give Morgana no reason to be disappointed in him.

Morgana… Merlin shook his head and attempted a grin. Like her brother, Morgana could be downright scary at times, but Merlin knew a secret that most didn’t. For all the bite that Arthur and Morgana Pendragon tried for, it was mostly bark. Neither of them would hurt anyone if they could help it.

Unfortunately, Merlin couldn’t say the same for himself. He had hurt Arthur, badly, and he had done it knowingly. If Morgana ever found out…

He downed the remainder of the wine.

As if she knew she was the centre of someone’s thoughts, Arthur’s sister sauntered into the room as if she owned the place, Gwen at her side. Morgana was dressed to the nines. Was she ever not? 

[ ](https://imgur.com/pIfj8ym)

Merlin stood and kissed each of them on the cheek before the garçon pulled out their chairs.

Gwen, wearing a lovely red cocktail dress that was Morgana’s favourite (Merlin didn’t have to wonder why, seeing how her breasts were barely covered) whispered something into Morgana’s ear. Merlin grinned at her, wondering what they were sharing. Whatever it was sent a pang of hurt through him. He missed those shared secrets with Arthur.

“Cheer up, Merlin, it’s the cusp of a new decade, love. You should be smiling, not moping about my completely hopeless brother,” Morgana said, obviously knowing Merlin far too well (but not nearly well enough), with far too much cheer as she handed him another drink.

Merlin stared at the glass before him. One drink was his limit and he had already downed one. He needed to be at his best in case he was called on to save another life or deliver a baby or two, but if anyone deserved to get royally sloshed, it was him. 

He hadn’t yet had the chance to tell Morgana and Gwen why he was in such a foul mood (other than the usual reason that it was New Year’s Eve, the day of the year that had always been his and Arthur’s favourite). The thought of that conversation made Merlin’s head hurt.

He gladly took the glass and downed half in one go. He would worry about the consequences tomorrow. Morgana smirked before looking at Gwen and sharing another of those sweet looks that Merlin would rather not be witness to.

“After we eat, you and Gwen need to go dance or do whatever it is you two get up to when celebrating. Be dears and keep it away from me, though, yeah?” Merlin said, unintended bitterness lacing his words as he turned his head towards the window, where he could see the hordes of people as they passed by on their way to the New Year’s celebrations in the village centre.

His mind took him back to the castle in Camelot, where he and Arthur had spent two memorable New Year’s Eves, but he pushed them away. That time was long gone.

Merlin had planned to go see the local firework display, but Freya had cancelled on him—something about her pet Bastet being ill—and Merlin hadn’t much been in the mood after the news he had received about his mother earlier.

“You’re not getting rid of us that easily, Merlin,” Gwen said, taking his hands in hers.

Once they ordered, Morgana regaled Gwen and Merlin with her adventures of the day, which were always many. It never ceased to amaze and hearten Merlin to know that someone who did not need to work could fill their day so completely with helping others. She had spent the day with a family who had little—she had bought the twin girls clothing and shoes. Retelling the adventures she had with the two little ones truly made Merlin’s day and temporarily replaced the emptiness.

Their food was brought out and for a few minutes there was little talk. Merlin, who had been famished earlier, now found himself regrettably without an appetite. He had too much on his mind. He needed to tell Morgana and Gwen about his mother, and he wanted to forget about Arthur and how Agravaine had separated them.

Thankfully, Gwen managed to pull Merlin from his unending sad thoughts when she began sharing her day’s adventures, which included a run-in with a disgruntled gentleman who seemed to have it in for _black people_. Apparently, said man had just come from a restaurant that had been playing a song of Josephine Baker’s before he literally ran into Gwen. He commented that he felt surrounded by her kind and proceeded to call her a nasty name, spat in her face, and walked off.

Gwen laughed it off as Merlin and Morgana looked at her aghast. She told them she did not give men such as him the time of day, and that it was really no bother to her and that she had run into far more people who were kind and accepting.

Merlin was indignant on Gwen’s behalf. He had never understood what it was about a person that made someone else so dislike them. And most especially, when it had absolutely nothing to do with them as an individual.

Yes Merlin could understand not particularly caring for someone. Just the night before he had met one of the most disagreeable persons he had ever had the displeasure of coming in contact with, so he felt right in deciding that he did not like that man. But to just look at a person and decide that you don’t like them? That concept was impossible for Merlin to grasp.

"You never did tell us about the letter,” Gwen said, interrupting Merlin’s thoughts. “Morgana said you received a letter earlier. What news from home?” Gwen tilted her head down so she could look up into Merlin’s downcast eyes. “Or should I not have asked? You need not answer if you would rather not. It is none of our business. That is unless you wish to tell us, which you probably don’t.” She looked frazzled as Morgana settled a hand over hers and gave her a small smile. 

Merlin opened his mouth but didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to answer. Really, how was one to answer? He took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly. It had been five hours since he had read his mother’s letter; enough time had passed that the shock should have worn off. Or so he thought. Really, he had no idea how long it should take for the shock of hearing that one’s parent is dying to wear off.

“It’s bad news?” Morgana, bless her kind heart, asked, saving Merlin from starting this conversation that no child, no matter how old, ever wanted to have with someone else.

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “I knew she had been feeling unwell. We thought it was the winter that was colder than usual causing it, but according to her letter, she has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It is advanced. For now she will remain in Ealdor, but once she gets worse she will go to hospital.”

Merlin opened his eyes wide and staved off the tears that threatened when Morgana and Gwen looked at him as if they both wanted to smother him with hugs. He appreciated these two women more than he could ever say, but if one of them so much as touched him, he would lose what little control he had, and he feared he might never gain it back.

Thankfully, Morgana seemed to guess what he was thinking because when Gwen reached over to touch him, Morgana gently redirected the dainty hand to hers before asking Merlin if he wanted to go home.

On the way to their shared flat, Merlin sat in the back seat, staring out at the passing scenery, unable to keep the tears away. He had already been an emotional mess before arriving at the cafe, and two glasses of wine had not helped.

He wasn’t at all ready to say goodbye to his mother. He had moved before Uther Pendragon had passed away, so he was unaware what it was truly like to go through losing a parent.

“I’m going home to Ealdor,” he said, addressing the window. “I don’t want to; I wrote Arthur and was perhaps a bit more open and forward than I had a right to be. I don’t fancy seeing him now and giving him false hope that things can change between us, but my mother needs me. She is more important than anything.” At this he turned towards Morgana in the front passenger’s seat. “Arthur will understand.”

“Oh, bugger Arthur, Merlin! Who the hell cares what my brother thinks. This is your mother we are talking about,” said Morgana, her voice trembling. “If he has a problem with you returning, then he doesn’t have to see you, does he? You don’t even have to let him know you are there, although I think you should. 

“As much as the two of you seem determined to remain miserable apart, I fervently believe that the love the two of you _share_ ”—and at this, Morgana pointedly used emphasis—“will prevail. I still don’t understand why you left in the first place; it is obvious you never stopped loving him. And I think it would be a travesty if the two of you deprived Gwen and me of future sappiness,” she finished, grinning. “But seriously, Merlin, you do what you need to do and we will all be here for you, including my brother.”

Merlin smiled through his tears. He always appreciated Morgana, but never more than now. She would forever be a champion of him and Arthur, no matter how much of a prat she thought her brother was. 

It had been Arthur's sister who called, insisting that he move in with her and Gwen when he had been _relocated_ to Paris. He had refused, saying he wanted to make his own way. He had nearly won, but with Morgana, well, she always won, and that was just the way of it.

Thinking back on it now, Merlin wasn’t sorry for it. He had been lonely and bereft when he’d arrived, missing Arthur and feeling all out of sorts. But Morgana and Gwen had taken him in and had him laughing in no time. Merlin owed them more than he would ever be able to repay.

But despite what Morgana said, Merlin had no intention of seeing Arthur. It would only cause grief and heartache, and Merlin was experiencing enough of that without the addition of his former lover. 

He felt as if he were carrying the weight of too many lies on his shoulders.

Later that night, as Merlin stood on the balcony, looking up at the moon and stars, Gwen joined him. She stood beside him but said nothing, which Merlin appreciated. Merlin knew that she, more than anyone, understood about losing a parent—she had been a baby when her mother died, and her father had died six years earlier.

Now both of Arthur’s parents were gone as well.

Merlin’s father had been dead for seven years, but he was fortunate to still have his mother. He had never taken that for granted, always feeling somewhat guilty when he caught Arthur looking longingly at his mother, as if he wished she were his mother as well.

The silence finally becoming uncomfortable, Merlin tried to think of something to say, and he grinned when he thought about how Gwen might actually enjoy this time of not talking; she certainly never had a moment’s peace when Morgana was around. 

Gwen and Morgana were as different as day and night, yet they really were perfect for each other. And being in Paris gave them a freedom they would never be able to have in Camelot. It was sad that they had to travel across the English Channel for a taste of that, but Merlin was happy that they had found it, and he was also eternally grateful that these two women were in his life.

But he wondered what they would say if they knew he had cowed down to Arthur’s uncle and left Camelot because of it. 

They hadn’t batted an eyelash between them when Merlin admitted to them that he had magic, but he didn’t think that well of acceptance would extend to forgiveness for being dishonest about why he had left Arthur.

Merlin forced himself to stop that line of thinking; he would not allow that bastard to impede on his thoughts now. He refused to mar his and Arthur’s favourite night of the year with Agravaine de Bois. He would think good thoughts of Morgana, of Gwen, and of Freya.

Freya and he had a unique relationship–it was quite odd that they were now such good friends after almost becoming man and wife, but Merlin would not question the why and how of it.

“You’ll get to see Will,” Gwen said, breaking the silence.

Merlin took a deep breath and looked up at the moon, thinking about how his mother’s illness must be affecting Will. Hunith Emrys hadn’t given birth to Merlin’s best friend, but she was as much his mother as the woman who had given birth to him.

“When will you leave?”

“Don’t know,” Merlin answered distractedly as he returned his attention to Gwen. “I have patients that I must see this week. And I know Morgana would give me an earful if she heard me saying this, but I cannot deny that the thought of seeing Arthur worries me. Knowing him, he’ll have learnt of my mother’s illness and will go see her. I don’t want to make it any harder for him than it has to be. I probably should not have written him.”

Merlin sighed as he looked over his shoulder when he heard the balcony door opening. Of course Arthur’s sister would have to come out at this very moment. Merlin nearly let out a sardonic laugh.

He would listen to her invariable diatribe because Morgana had no idea why Merlin had left Arthur or why he had written that letter, but Merlin wished he didn’t have to. He had no business writing what he had to Arthur. It was unfair and hurtful, but for Merlin it had been the closest he would ever come to telling Arthur the truth—that he never wanted to leave, that he was coerced. It would be little consolation to either him or Arthur, but it was all Merlin could do.

“We wouldn’t want my dear brother to ever think he was a Merlin magnet,” deadpanned Morgana as she joined them. She kissed Gwen and entwined their hands.

And to complete the _happy, perfect picture_ , Gwen leant her head on Morgana’s shoulder and attempted to whisper into her girlfriend's ear, but the _Voulay vous couchay aveck moy ce soir?_ came out quite clear and received a small, sad smile from Merlin. 

He physically ached for Arthur. 

“Seriously, Merlin,” Morgana said as she pulled out a chair from the table and sat down, pulling Gwen down so she could sit in her lap, “one would think you were afraid to see Arthur the way you are talking. I know you never did tell him about your magic, which I don’t understand, but this, whatever it is that you are keeping to yourself isn’t about that—you hid that particular secret from him for the whole of your relationship and seemed to not have a problem doing so, so what is it you aren’t telling me?”

*Voulay vous couchay aveck moy ce soir - Do you [formal] want to sleep with me tonight 

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/hwmdSor)

 

“We’ll have to do this again soon,” Myror said as he stood and retrieved his coat jacket. “Next week should be less busy for me. Perhaps we can spend Tuesday afternoon together? You’ve taken me to the castle at night, but I’ve always wanted to see it during the day and perhaps have a tour. Your uncle tells me the interior is a sight to behold.”

Arthur grimaced as he buttoned his jacket and gathered his keys from the table. He could have done without the reminder of his uncle, but Agravaine aside, Arthur had actually enjoyed himself this evening, so he tried to smile because, despite everything, he fervently wanted this, whatever it was between him and Myror, to work. 

“I’d like that,” he said, thinking he should probably say more. He felt good about things between him and this man who seemed too good to be true, but as of yet there hadn’t been that spark that he was so hoping for.

Not that he had thought the chemistry between them would be instantaneous—not everyone could be like him and Merlin—but it had been a fortnight of him and Myror dining out twice per week, always ending their nights with a stroll through the old castle’s courtyard (Arthur hadn’t consciously chosen Merlin’s favorite picnic destination, but that was where he and Myror had ended up, nonetheless). Shouldn’t Arthur be feeling something more than sadness?

Myror was tall, dark, handsome, fit, and he was an avid conversationalist—he was well-versed in poetry and the latest literature of the day. He matched Arthur well when it came to any current event, and he was a passionate kisser, one who made Arthur feel things he hadn’t in a long while.

All of this should equal a burgeoning relationship that was quickly advancing.

Yet it wasn’t. For all that Arthur felt compelled to be with Myror, there was something not quite right. And no, that something wasn’t that this other person was someone other than Merlin… although there was no denying that fact.

In addition to Myror’s aesthetically pleasing body, quick wit, and thirst for knowledge, one of the other attributes Arthur appreciated most about him was that he heeded Arthur’s request to address him as simply Arthur. Most people refused to do so on principle. Arthur understood why—the aristocracy was an unforgiving tradition that _demanded_ adherence to the old ways—but this one small concession from Myror meant more than Arthur could convey.

But despite this, when they were together, the connection that Arthur so wanted to be there wasn’t.

“You look troubled, Arthur,” Myror said as they stepped out into the cold January evening. “I regrettably have a meeting in half an hour with investors that I cannot get out of, but perhaps you can come over to mine in a couple hours and I can take your mind off of whatever it is that seems to be bothering you.”

They walked several steps in companionable silence, but once they were out of the view of others, Myror closed the distance between them and cupped Arthur’s face, smiling when Arthur let out a sigh and leant into the touch as if he wanted more. 

Myror kissed Arthur tenderly, but pulled back a few seconds later and looked into Arthur’s eyes. He searched them before frowning. “Or perhaps not—you look knackered. I know you’ve been stressed and that things have been difficult. You should go home and get some rest. We can spend more private time together later,” Myror said with a wink. He emphasized his words by brushing a hand across Arthur’s breech-covered cock before he turned and walked towards his car.

Arthur shivered. Nimueh had been the last to do that, but the memories that filled Arthur’s mind were of Merlin.

Ten minutes later Arthur found himself at Gwaine and Elena’s. It was late and he was sure it was a bad time because Elena was probably getting the kids settled for the night, but Arthur needed to talk and Gwaine had told him he could come by any time.

As he stood at the door, waiting for the doorbell to be answered, he could hear the kids inside yelling that someone was there. It made Arthur chuckle. 

Gwaine had two children, a concept Arthur found difficult to grasp. But he had to admit that Gwaine was a wonderful father and husband. Settling down seemed to have suited him.

Would Arthur ever have the chance to be a father? Probably not, seeing as how men were unable to procreate with one another. 

Knowing he would most likely never have children made Arthur sad. He longed to tuck in his son and daughter each night before they went to bed, and the thought of them coming to him when they had a question made his heart swell. He wanted his son to sneak in his study and watch him as he had done his father. And he wanted the chance to be an accepting father to his children throughout their lives.

He could find a lovely lady and marry her to get his family—he had dated women in the past, although not many, and only as a last resort—but he just couldn’t do that to someone. It wasn’t who he was, and the thought of living a lie for the remainder of his life didn’t sit at all well with him.

The door opened, thankfully interrupting Arthur’s increasing maudlin thoughts, and Gwaine, his daughter peeking around her father’s leg, beckoned Arthur in before reaching down and picking the toddler up. Elena walked in and took the girl in her arms. Arthur’s heart again ached. He wanted this life so very badly.

“Hey, Arthur,” Elena said, kissing the air and aiming it at him as she grinned. “Gwaine was getting worried; he thought you had decided Myror was more important than him.” Elena wiped her daughter’s nose with her shirt, fighting a small war in the process. “I told him that would never happen, but I’m still waiting for you to bring this new man of yours round. Gwaine has met him, but I want to see who has stolen our Arthur’s heart.”

Arthur must have blushed. “Erm, we’re not that serious,” he said, shaking his head. “He’s good fun and quite enjoyable to be around, but we’re taking things slowly.”

Gwaine winked as he put an arm around Arthur and led him in the direction of the sitting room. “My boy and I are going to have a man-to-man, Elena. Call me if you need help with the kids.”

Drink in hand a few minutes later, Arthur leant back into the corner of the sofa and waited for the questions to begin. 

Gwaine had been giving him odd looks when Elena said she wanted to meet Myror, and Arthur wanted to know why. If Gwaine had a bad feeling about him, that was important. Gwaine had a keen sense of others. But maybe Gwaine thought this bloke was a good one and that Arthur needed to speed things along.

It had been Gwaine who had known from the moment he met Merlin that the medical student and Arthur would be perfect for one another, and he hadn’t been wrong. It had also been Gwaine who had implored Arthur to beg Merlin to stay and not leave. He had said there was no one else who would ever make Arthur anywhere near as happy.

“Have you fucked him yet?” Gwaine asked without compunction as he settled into the chair across from Arthur.

“Wha- Gwaine, is that really any of your business?” Arthur shouldn’t have been surprised; he was well aware of whom he was speaking with, but, still…

“Yes, Arthur, I would say it is very much my business,” was Gwaine’s matter-of-fact response, looking affronted that he was being questioned. “The love of your life is in another country, with your heart, might I add, and here you are entertaining Myror Bounty. You have not once in the time since Merlin left shown the slightest interest in anyone other than Nimueh, who, might I add, you were with only so you could experiment with her _feminine attributes_ and the pleasure you could derive from them, and suddenly you are enamoured with this dark bloke who just sauntered into Camelot without a care in the world. What do you know about him? What if he is after your money?”

Arthur very nearly stood and walked out. How dare Gwaine. Had it been Leon Arthur were seeing, Gwaine wouldn’t be worried in the least, but because it was Myror, there had to be something wrong with him. Why were people so untrusting? But after a few seconds’ thought, Arthur calmed himself. 

Gwaine wasn’t like that; he had made it clear that he wanted Arthur to be happy, and it didn’t matter with whom he did that with. And hadn’t Arthur wanted to know what Gwaine thought? 

He had. 

It was nice having friends who were looking out for him. And, if he really thought about it, he didn’t know that much about this Myror.

No, Arthur certainly did not think Myror was someone to fear, but if Gwaine had concerns, perhaps Arthur should hear him out.

He inclined his head towards Gwaine, inviting him to continue, before adding, “No we have not fucked… yet.” Arthur rolled his eyes. He was thirty years old, for goodness sake.

“This is good. No need to rush into anything. All I’m saying, Arthur, is that you should take things slowly with him. He seems like a nice enough chap, and of course he is easy on the eyes, but you can never be too careful, especially when the man you are seeing was introduced to you by none other than your uncle, who, by the way, has been seen around the surrounding villages with Myror. They had lunch last Tuesday at that new tavern in the Darkling Woods.”

“You’ve seen them together?” Arthur asked, taken aback. Agravaine? What would Myror be doing with Agravaine?

It was probably nothing—Agravaine had business dealings in the surrounding villages so he was there often. It made sense that he and Myror, who also travelled between the surrounding villages on a daily basis, could possibly come into contact with one another. Yet, it did make Arthur think. He would look into this. He had no reason not to trust Myror, but he was not so sure about his uncle.

“Yeah. It’s probably nothing,” Gwaine said nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just been giving Arthur the riot act about this man of his. “I’m sure your Myror is pristine and everything good that you deserve, but you know I will never like anyone as much as Merlin. You will never do better than him.” Gwaine stood and went to make himself another drink.

Yes, Arthur did know that he’d never do better than Merlin, but being reminded of that fact did not at all help. He set down his glass and stood. “I know that, Gwaine. Everyone knows that. But I didn’t leave him, if you recall. He left me. Don’t I deserve to be happy? Don’t I deserve to find love again?”

Twenty minutes later Arthur found himself sharing a drink with Mordred at The Rising Sun. He had meant to go straight home from Gwaine’s, but he’d ended up here.

“So what has you looking so glum?” Arthur asked, sipping his cocktail. “I thought you’d be at home with Kara, ooh-ing and aah-ing over the baby.” Arthur had yet to meet the lucky tyke who had Kara and Mordred for parents, but he hoped to do so soon.

Another child to remind Arthur of what he would never have.

“I was, My Lor-Arthur,” Mordred corrected himself,” but Kara kicked me out of the house,” Mordred replied evasively, looking miserable.

“Want to talk about it?” Arthur really wasn’t up for anything too deep, but there was no way he could leave Mordred to wallow in his misery alone without offering to listen. He had never been particularly close to Mordred, but Merlin had taken to the boy straight away and the two had become fast friends. Arthur had never understood, but he’d never questioned it—Merlin hadn’t many other people in his life, so Arthur had encouraged the friendship.

Arthur was not the only one who missed Merlin.

Mordred looked up at Arthur and studied him intently for several seconds. He looked uncomfortable. “What I’m about to tell you could get me arrested.”

Arthur inclined his head. “And I could be arrested for whom I take to my bed. I think your secret is safe with me, Mordred,” Arthur said emphatically, thinking back to how frightened he had been when his uncle had discovered his sister’s son’s secret. That Agravaine hadn’t gone to the authorities to turn in his homosexual nephew was a mystery, but Arthur figured it was down to his father.

“Point taken,” Mordred said with a grateful smile. “Well, you see, I have magic.”

Arthur had to work very hard not to laugh, but he couldn’t help the grin. So much for having to coax the secret out of Mordred. “So, that is why you and Merlin got on so well. I should have guessed.” Mordred frowned and looked confused. “Mordred, did you honestly think I would have you arrested for having magic when I lo- when I was in love with someone who had magic?”

“I-I didn’t know you knew about Merlin. He never told you, at least that I know of,” Mordred said, nervously.

“No, he never did,” Arthur said, a renewed sense of sadness infusing him, “but he didn’t have to. The boy is as good at keeping secrets as my father was at showing affection. Look, Mordred, my friend Gwaine has a strange sixth sense when it comes to assessing people and figuring out if they are good or bad. Morgana sometimes has dreams that come true. We all have gifts. This magic that you and Merlin have, it is just another of those gifts.”

“But how did you find out if Merlin didn’t tell you?” But almost as soon as Mordred asked, his face turned a dark shade of red. He was most likely recalling a personal, intimate experience where his own magic had unintentionally revealed itself. Arthur couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hm, yes, well, as I implied, Merlin is not the most subtle person, but as you seem to have latched on to the more obvious reason I fathomed him out, I think you can probably figure that one out yourself, Mordred,” Arthur said, thinking about those mysterious golden eyes of Merlin’s glowing during the night and that beautiful smile that always awaited him when he awakened each morning. 

It was a powerful memory, one that very nearly left Arthur unable to continue, but he cleared his throat and carried on. “I guess Kara is not as observant as I am. So, what does this magic have to do with Kara kicking you out of the house? I am guessing she didn’t know she married a warlock?”

“No, she had no idea until Mary, our daughter, floated one of her toys across the room.”

“Ah, yes, well, I can see where that might have been a bit of a shock. I am guessing Kara did not take too kindly to that?”

Arthur could understand. Even as he had already suspected that Merlin had magic, the first time he had seen the gold in Merlin’s eyes he had very nearly screamed. But after scrambling out of the bed and telling Merlin he was sick, he’d gone to the loo and after a few minutes decided that he would be a hypocrite if he left Merlin because he had magic.

Arthur was a homosexual.

People didn’t always have a choice in these matters, did they?

He’d gone back to bed, curled up next to Merlin, and promised that he would do whatever it took to protect him.

Arthur could only hope Kara would have a reason to forgive Mordred. Not that there was anything to forgive, but just as he had accepted Merlin, he wished for Kara to accept Mordred and their daughter.

Mordred shook his head. “She picked up Mary and told me to get out and that she never wanted to see me again.”

Arthur took a deep breath. He felt completely inadequate to give advice, but he wished someone had been around to give him advice when he was young and inexperienced. “Okay, here’s what you do. You need to go home and talk about this. If you want to, use what I said about magic being a gift. I know Kara loves you. She won’t give you up just because you or your daughter has magic.”

Arthur hoped he was right. Kara was head over heels for Mordred, so Arthur was counting on that to outweigh the magic. He fully expected the two to be back together before the night was over.

“Thanks, Arthur,” Mordred said as he stood to leave, but his face seemed to lose a few shades of colour as he looked towards the window. “Erm, Arthur, your friend, Myror, he’s staring at us through the window, and he doesn’t look at all happy.”

Arthur turned and saw that Myror was indeed staring at him and Mordred, and he was also writing something down. 

It unsettled Arthur.

As far as Myror knew, Arthur had gone home, so of course he would be upset to see the man he was seeing out with another. Thankfully, Mordred was sporting a wedding ring. “Come on, you are going home, Mordred, and I am going to assure my _friend_ that he has nothing to worry about. I might have a thing for blokes who have magic, but I do not cavort with married men.”

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/hwmdSor)

 

_My Dearest Son,_

_Please do not rush to get to me. My doctors assure me that I am stable for the moment. My strength is no longer what it was and I tire easily, but my pain is bearable. I very much look forward to seeing your sweet face and smothering you with a mother’s love, but I do not want you to put off those things that you must do. You now have responsibilities to your patients._

_Your Uncle Gaius would be so very proud of you, as am I, Merlin. That you adopted my mother’s last name for your own when practicing is a true gift; I wish you and my mother could have known each other. An old soul is what she was and is what you are._

_Will misses you and I know it will be good for him to see you again. He comes to check on me daily and brings me vegetables and fruit from the garden. I tell you this because you should know that I am being well looked after. I know you will return to Ealdor when you are able to._

_Love you forever my sweet boy,_

_Mum_

 

Merlin looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and smiled through his tears when he saw that it was Freya. He folded the paper and placed it back in the envelope before wiping his eyes on his shirtsleeve.

“Your mum?” Freya asked as she sat down beside him and handed Merlin a handkerchief.

Merlin nodded as he blew his nose. “I’m trying to finish up here, but there is so much to do. So many sick people. I just don’t know what to do, Freya. What if my Mum gets worse and dies before I get there?” Merlin scooted over and leant his head on Freya’s shoulder. 

She had always known how to calm him when he was sad. He closed his eyes and allowed her fingers to smooth his unruly hair. “Here I am, with all this magic at my disposal, the means at my fingertips to do so much good, yet it means nothing. Absolutely nothing. I can’t use it to heal her, Freya.”

“I don’t know what that letter from your mother said, love, but I’m guessing that Will has been checking on her just as he always has. If, and this is a big if, Merlin, your mother does die before you get there, you will know she died happy. She has the best son a mother could ever hope for, and the best almost-son that a mother could wish for. This cancer thing is the worst. It makes me so angry. But I know that your mother must be at peace. 

“The first time I met her I knew she was special; she took me in as one of her own and loved me. She wrote me a few months ago, after I decided to call off the wedding. I was afraid of what she would have to say, but I need not have. She told me I had done the right thing, that she was proud of me, and that she would always consider me a part of your family.”

At this Merlin lifted his head and grinned as he looked at Freya and wiped his nose on his sleeve before using the handkerchief when she rolled her eyes. “My mum thinks the world of you, so it does not at all surprise me that she feels that way about you. She always looked forward to seeing you. She told me that no one could shop quite like you.” Merlin laughed, but then he cleared his throat. “You were right, you know, to call off the wedding. I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner, before you were emotionally involved. That wasn’t fair to you. Not fair at all, Freya.” 

She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “It’s fine, Merlin. Before you, I didn’t know what love was. You taught me that I was worthy of love. I knew from the beginning that your heart belonged to Arthur Pendragon, yet I allowed myself to believe that I could make you fall in love with me. I’m not sorry for thinking that.” She then gave another shrug and looked off into the distance. “I wanted to be a part of your world and it didn’t matter how. But then I realised that by going through this charade, I was keeping you from realising the truth, that it was Arthur, and not me, whom you were in love with. Then, of course, I met Helios. He has been wonderful. If not for you, I would have never met him. You should know that he asked me to marry him,” she finished, almost in a whisper.

Merlin wadded the handkerchief and looked at Freya, who was beaming. Merlin understood, and he was happy for her. “I am happy for you and Helios. You know that I had my reservations when I first met him, but he has proven how much he loves you. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for the two of you. I imagine there will be ten or twelve mini Helioses and Freyas running around in a decade or so.”

Freya rolled her eyes. “Maybe two or three,” she giggled, but then it was her turn to get serious. “As I said earlier, from the first day I met you, I’ve known your heart belonged to Arthur. I have never even met this man, yet I know he must be someone very special. What I don’t know, or what I don’t understand, is why the two of you are apart now. From what you told me, it was your decision to move here, and you were worried you hurt Arthur. Merlin, what am I missing?”

Merlin stood and began walking around. Should he tell Freya? Surely there could be no danger in telling her. Arthur was an English Channel away. But once he told her, it was out and he couldn’t control who else would find out. It was risky, but he was tired of keeping this secret. He was miserable and needed at least one other person to know.

He couldn’t look at her as he began to speak, so he continued to walk around. “The home Arthur grew up in was one of those huge estates that employed people to work in service for the upkeep. After the Great War they started being sold off. Arthur’s was no different, but at least his father had a say in what happened to theirs. 

“All the money that Arthur grew up with was pretty much gone by this time; he had some, but nowhere near what he had before. Then his uncle, this really slimy creep called Agravaine, showed up with this inheritance that his sister had left for her son. It’s a long, convoluted story about how Arthur never knew about it. Hell, I don’t think anyone but Arthur’s uncle knows the real story, but the part that involves me is that Agravaine was the executor of this money, or something like that. I really don’t understand all the terms that they use for these things, but suffice it to say, Agravaine was in charge of the money.

“He told me that Arthur wouldn’t get a shilling of it if I was in his life. But if I went quietly and didn’t make a fuss, Arthur would get the money and could continue as he had. So, here I am, in Paris, and there Arthur is, in Camelot. I guess that’s about it,” Merlin finished, feeling a renewed sense of cowardice.

Hearing himself telling this to Freya, Merlin thought it sounded silly that he had left and not told Arthur. It wasn’t like Merlin to allow someone to walk all over him, yet it did seem as if that is what he had done with Agravaine, and the thought embarrassed him. What if Agravaine had been lying? What had happened to Merlin that he wasn’t able to stand up to Arthur’s uncle?

“Oh my fucking god, Merlin!” Freya said in a much louder voice than she usually used. “That bastard! How could he do that? You’ve got to tell Arthur. That slimy piece of shit can’t get away with this!”

Merlin looked at Freya and very nearly laughed. Freya looked at him strangely. “Sorry, Freya, but I have never heard you use a curse word. Ever. I didn’t think you had it in you.” At that he sat down beside her again. “Thanks for listening. It feels good to finally tell someone. I can’t tell Arthur, though; I can’t risk him losing everything. I just can’t.”

“I think if you asked Arthur he’d probably say he already lost everything when he lost you, Merlin. Please tell him. You can’t allow that vile man to get away with this.”

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/hwmdSor)

 

There were worse ways to spend a Monday morning than having your cock sucked, Arthur thought as he leant against the wall and closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of Myror’s mouth as it worked him into a frenzy. He had missed this. It felt so good that he didn’t think he stood a chance of lasting much longer.

He grabbed hold of Myror’s head and hitched his breath, hoping his lover would slow down. Arthur didn’t want to come so soon, but at the current pace he didn’t stand a chance of lasting. “Ngh,” was about all he could say, but as Myror released him and looked up, his chin covered in pre-come, Arthur thought he had rather made his point. He grinned and winked. Myror looked good on his knees.

“We should relocate to the bed. Don’t think I’m going to be left out of the fun,” Arthur said, catching his breath and looking forward to seeing what Myror tasted like. He licked his lips.

Myror stood and stepped back, frowning. “Erm, sorry, Arthur, but I need to be at work at half nine. I knew we wouldn’t have much time since I got here later than I wanted to, so I wanted to please you; you can return the favour when we next meet.”

Arthur let out a deprecating laugh. After three years he had finally allowed another male to taste him and he had thought he was about to get his first taste of cock in far too long, and Myror was pulling back before he could get a chance to share in the fun. 

Damn it.

At least Myror looked apologetic, but that did little to make Arthur feel better. He had so looked forward to this; they’d planned it the night before when Arthur said he’d fantasized of waking up to Myror getting him out of bed, forcing him against the wall, and then sucking him until he screamed.

At first, when Myror had suggested that they take their relationship further and said that he wanted to make Arthur’s fantasy come true, Arthur had nervously laughed, unsure if he was truly ready to do that, but here he was. And now that he thought about it more, he was more than a bit miffed with himself. What had he been thinking? He had given Myror a key to his home and allowed him to enter it whilst Arthur was asleep.

There was everything wrong with that. Yes, Arthur trusted Myror and they had been seeing each other for a while, but Arthur knew that he needed to be careful. If the wrong people found out what he did in his free time and with whom he did it with, he could find himself in a world of trouble. 

And as much as he didn’t want to acknowledge it, Arthur had to admit that Myror being a black homosexual made the situation much more complicated. 

Why did people have to be prejudiced against those who were unlike them? It wasn’t fair. Why should Arthur have to fear loving someone because they were the same sex as him and a different colour?

Arthur had been foolish, yes, but not in his choice of a partner. His mistake had been that he had not taken more time to get to know Myror.

But he had so wanted this. Hell, his cock had been looking forward to it all night. Arthur grimaced. He’d been enjoying that talented mouth. “Fine, I need to get ready to go meet Leon at the Rising Sun in an hour,” he said gruffly as he began doing up his zip.

“You don’t want me to finish you off?” Myror asked, looking rather disappointed that he was being deprived of a feast.

Arthur took solace in that. “No, you should go. I’ll call you in a few days when I get some free time.” Yes, Arthur knew he sounded petulant, but he felt entitled at the moment and not at all forgiving.

When Myror approached and went in for a kiss, Arthur deftly turned his head at the last minute and Myror got a sweet taste of cheek. It was immature and childish, but Arthur found the gesture immensely satisfying. 

An hour later Arthur sat across from Leon and a friend of his from the Camelot Historical Society, Annis Caerleon. Arthur had no idea what to expect.

Leon had called the evening before and asked him to meet him for brunch the following morning, so here he was. But now that he was here Arthur had an uneasy feeling. Leon had that look about him that said he was up to something, and that look usually meant he was on a mission to make Arthur’s life hellish.

Okay, perhaps that wasn’t true, but whenever Leon _helped_ Arthur, it almost always meant Arthur was going to have to put himself out there and do something he was not at all comfortable with.

Like that time Leon had somehow cajoled Arthur into joining in with other veterans of the Great War to talk about their experiences. Leon had said it would be cathartic for Arthur.

Well, it had been, but Arthur hadn’t thought so at the time. He had hated Leon for making him do that, even as Leon had _made_ him do nothing.

Pleasantries were exchanged and Arthur sat there attentively as Leon’s friend began speaking about the castle in Camelot. Try as he may, though, Arthur wasn’t completely in the here and now. Part of him was thinking about Merlin and how much he had loved the castle.

But another part of Arthur (his cock to be precise) was back in his bedroom, still waiting for Myror to finish sucking him dry. 

Damn, that had felt good, and Arthur had sent him on his way before Myror had the chance to finish what he had started. Arthur’s cock twitched.

There was no way to know how long it would be before Arthur might have the opportunity again for someone to get him off with their mouth. Yes, Arthur was quite good at the hand thing—he knew which fingers and what direction to direct them to get the most out of his self-gratification sessions—but his fingers and fist were not another person’s mouth or cock.

Leon kicked Arthur beneath the table and glared at him. Arthur blushed as he returned his attention to this Annis person. He was all ears for the rest of her presentation. He had missed much of the beginning, but he caught up quickly and had a sense of where this was going, and again he thought about Merlin.

She continued to talk about the castle and reminded him that half of Avalon wanted to level it. But she added that the other half wanted to preserve it for future generations. Apparently, she was about to ask him to help in that endeavour. Perhaps not, but that did seem to be where the conversation was heading.

Arthur lamented ever complaining to Leon about needing something to do.

He glared at his best friend when he knew the woman couldn’t see him. Why couldn’t Leon have been like Merlin who, when Arthur said he needed something to do, took him on a walk in the woods and did naughty things to him.

“Excuse me, Miss Caerleon,” Arthur said a few minutes later, once she had finished speaking, “but what precisely do you want me to do?”

“I would like for you to take charge of the Camelot Castle project, My Lord, erm, Mr Pendragon,” she corrected with a conspiratorial grin that said she was most assuredly _not_ at all sorry for the slip of the tongue.

“As you may be aware,” Miss Caerleon added, “Bayard Mercia has been dismissed because of allegations of poisoning a former co-worker of his. I am aware that you have no experience with large projects such as this one, but you did such an astounding job with the transfer of Pendragon Estates, making sure the change of hands went smoothly. I like what I saw and think your involvement (Arthur was sure that the word involvement in this case translated to money) could be invaluable in this project.” She grinned as her eyes flitted between Arthur and Leon.

Arthur barely contained his groan as he glared at his best friend. It was the height of impoliteness to interrupt, but Arthur hadn’t been born into his destined title to remain silent in the face of others lording themselves over him. He returned his attention to Miss Caerleon and opened his mouth to politely decline, but it seemed she was not to be bested in this verbal spar of theirs.

“And before you politely refuse my offer, _Mister_ Pendragon, as I know you are planning to do, I am fully aware how passionate you are about this project. I seem to recall you telling a group of investors several years back, soon after you returned from the war, that it would be a travesty for Camelot to lose this landmark that played such a pivotal role in our history. I also recall you speaking eloquently about King Arthur and how Camelot had a responsibility to him to keep his story alive.” 

She finished her speech by placing her hands in her lap and smiling demurely. “It would be a shame if future generations were left to make up their own stories about King Arthur instead of having the facts. I think your father would agree.”

Arthur, albeit shocked and somewhat taken aback, was impressed. This woman, who had never met him, had known precisely how to guilt him into taking action.

Her worth had just gone up exponentially.

“You win, Miss Caerleon,” he said with great reservation. “According to my father, you always did,” he added, shaking his head, wondering just what he’d got himself into. “Send the papers and details to my solicitor so we can begin this project. As you say, it would be a shame for future generations not to know of the heroics of King Arthur.”

“And his knights,” Leon chimed in, grinning as Miss Caerleon stood and gathered her purse and shawl.

Arthur stood and made pleasantries for a few moments more until she left. He then turned to Leon and harrumphed. He wasn’t certain what he had just committed to, but he already knew that he regretted it.

The thought of working on the castle renovation project without Merlin, who had loved walking through the vast complex, imagining what King Arthur and his servant Merlin did each day, just didn’t seem right. 

Arthur did not at all want to do this, but he had said yes, hadn’t he?

He of course blamed that on Myror, who had rendered his brain to mush with that talented mouth of his.

“Oh, come now, Pendragon, you can’t tell me that this meeting wasn’t more lucrative than being blown by that bounty man you’ve recently taken up with.” Leon took a sip from his glass and laughed heartily. “I don’t see you and him working. Not to sound crude, but I know how much you enjoy your cock being suckled. No matter how far and wide you look, Arthur, there is only one mouth made for that cock of yours, and it isn’t Myror’s. If you were smart, you would go to Paris and bring Merlin back where he belongs. He doesn’t belong in Paris. He belongs with you.”

Arthur stared at Leon, unable to articulate what he wanted to say, but he needed to leave. He had come here against his better judgement because he trusted Leon’s instincts, and he hadn’t been wrong to do so, but this… he couldn’t sit here and listen to this. He knew what Leon said was true. He knew it with every fibre of his being.

But Merlin had been the one to leave.

Arthur hadn’t sent him away.

He was about to stand and leave when Percival came over and took a seat next to Leon. Arthur sighed. So much for him getting away and trying to go find Myror and apologise and hope for another go.

He could leave; he had a ready-made excuse, but Leon had it bad for Percival and there was no way Percival would have come and sat down if Arthur hadn’t been there. Arthur had an obligation as Leon’s best friend to stay, even though Leon was being anything but a good friend at the moment by bringing up hurtful thruths.

“Hey, Percival, to what do I owe this lovely visit,” Arthur flirted shamelessly, knowing he could get away with it. Percival had tried valiantly to seduce Arthur four years earlier, but Merlin had quickly put an end to that. Since then Percival hadn’t so much as stared at Arthur’s cock. Something about him having it on good authority that Merlin would curse him in his sleep if he did. Arthur grinned at the thought and wondered if Merlin could really do that.

Percival frowned. “I had planned to talk to you about Agravaine—there is some news you need to be made aware of, Arthur—but that can wait. I have since learned of other news that is much more important than him,” Percival said, sounding and looking uneasy.

Arthur swallowed. His emotions of late, which were already all over the place, hadn’t been easy to keep in check. He had managed, but he absolutely could not speak about Agravaine today. Maybe tomorrow, but not today, so he was thankful Percival had other news. He inclined his head for Percival to continue.

“Merlin’s mum isn’t doing well. I thought you should know.”

Arthur’s mood plummeted, and he suddenly wished for all the news in the world about Agravaine.

The week before he had been not too far from Ealdor, dealing with Pendragon Estates business that needed wrapping up, and he’d thought about going to see Merlin’s mother, but he had decided against it.

Hunith Emrys was the epitome of what Arthur had always dreamt of in a mother. She had always made him feel so very welcome and loved. When Merlin had moved to Paris, he had not only deprived Arthur of his love, but of his mother, as well, and the latter was nearly as distressing as the former.

“Thank you for telling me, Percival. I had heard she wasn’t doing well but tried to convince myself she wouldn’t want to see me. Perhaps I was wrong to think that way. Do you know what ails her?” he asked, knowing it was none of his business, but he wanted to know all the same. When he noticed Percival looking at Leon sadly, he knew it wasn’t good.

“Will wrote and told me it’s pancreatic cancer. She is still at home, but he thinks she will be transferred here to Camelot soon. You need to go see her.”

Arthur nodded.

Merlin would no doubt be coming to see his mother, if he wasn’t already here. “Is Merlin here?” he asked, unsure if he wanted to know. Not that it mattered.

When Percival took his leave sometime later, Arthur felt like he had been hit in the back with a mace. The thought of Hunith dying was wrong. She was full of life. And Merlin… he would be devastated. What would this do to him?

Arthur looked at Leon but couldn’t speak. How was it that after three years apart he still felt as if Hunith was partly his mother as well, not just Merlin’s?

“I’m sorry, Arthur.”

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/hwmdSor)

 

Merlin turned into the long drive that would take him to the hospital, but it would never be a hospital to Merlin. To him it would forever be _Pendragon Estates_... Arthur’s home.

The thought of walking inside and seeing it being used as something other than what it had been meant for hurt Merlin to the core, but the fact that he was going inside to see his mother hurt more.

Perhaps this was his penance for leaving his mother and Arthur without divulging the truth of why he was going to Paris.

Merlin had vowed to never use his magic for anything other than good, but at the moment he wanted to go find Agravaine and break his neck with little more than a twist of his hand and a look. It would be a fitting end to the bastard's life for separating him from his mother and Arthur.

He parked in the car park and took a moment to study his surroundings. Everything looked similar to how it had the last he’d seen it; spring had yet to arrive, so everything remained dormant, but he knew that in a few short months the greenery and flowers would sprout up everywhere and frame the majestic home and grounds as it always had.

The car park was, of course, new. Where he was now parked had previously been the site of a small garden he and Arthur had started. It hadn‘t lasted a season because he and Arthur hadn’t known the first thing about keeping a garden (if only Merlin could have enhanced the results with magic...), but the memories made Merlin grin. He could still see Arthur dressed in his overalls (Arthur in overalls should have been made illegal because Merlin hadn’t been able to resist him in his _farm clothing_ ).

He recalled one particular day when it had been overly hot and they had been excessively frisky. They might have ended up making love where they had just planted tomatoes. And Morgana might have caught them in the act and told on them to her father, even if she had left out what exactly Merlin and Arthur had been doing when she found them frolicking in the garden doing _non-gardening things_.

The memory made Merlin laugh out loud, although at the time it had been the height of embarrassment. He hadn’t been able to look at Arthur’s father for a week afterwards, and Arthur told him a month or two later that his father had asked him if he and Merlin were using condoms. 

At the time Merlin hadn’t thought it was any of Uther Pendragon’s business how they had sex, but now he thought he would give just about everything he owned to have Arthur’s father confront him and ask if he and Arthur were being careful.

Alas, Arthur’s father was six feet under, and Arthur and Merlin were not engaging in anything that required protection these days.

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t allow these memories to overwhelm him; he was here to see his mother.

Soon enough he found himself at the front doors. He tried to prepare himself. He could do this, really, he could, but why did it have to be here where his mother was? Of all the places in Avalon, she had to come _here_ , didn’t she?

The door opened and a woman and what looked like her lady’s maid exited. The lady’s maid gave Merlin a small smile, but the old woman looked stern and unfriendly. Merlin felt sorry for the young girl who was obviously working for the uppity woman. He gave her a friendly nod and took the opportunity to enter the familiar foyer.

At first glance it looked quite familiar, and it was eerie how Merlin could see Arthur, Morgana, and Uther Pendragon everywhere he looked. It even smelled the same. Just what that scent was, Merlin couldn’t have said, but it was the same as it had been the first and last times Merlin had stepped foot in these hallowed rooms.

“Hello, sir, might I help you?” asked a kind-looking girl—probably not a girl anymore, but she was young at any rate.

Merlin cleared his throat. “I am here to see my mother, Hunith Emrys. She was admitted the day before yesterday.” He was nervous. How would his mother be when he saw her? He was afraid to see her, yet he couldn’t wait until he could hug her.

“Oh yes, lovely woman, your mother. You will find her in the blue room. Upstairs, first floor, fifth room on the right. It is the middle of luncheon now, but if I recall correctly, your mother eats at the beginning, so you shan’t be interrupting her,” she said kindly. “If you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask.”

Merlin thanked the kind girl and began ascending the stairs. More memories assailed him. It was on one of these very steps where he and Arthur had engaged in fellatio for the first time. 

That was a long, lovely story that made Merlin blush.

He continued up the stairs and noticed that the table which had been on the first floor landing had been replaced with a sofa. It made Merlin sad. On that table had been a large photograph of Arthur’s parents taken at their wedding. The Countess of Albion had been full of life, seemingly impervious to anything less than perfection. And Arthur’s father had been looking at his wife with all the love and adoration that any spouse deserved. It had been patently clear that the two had been very much in love.

At the top of the stairs, Merlin turned to his right and continued down the hall until he reached the room he had feared the girl had been referring to. He once again closed his eyes, but this time that wasn’t enough and he roughly wiped away the tear that threatened to fall.

His mother was in Morgana’s room.

That in itself was bad enough. But what made it so much worse was that it was in this room that Merlin had last seen Arthur.

Merlin had been rather distraught at the time, but if memory served him correctly, Arthur had been standing at the window, looking down over the grounds, and Merlin had stood in the doorway and asked Arthur to please turn and look at him. When he had done as asked, Merlin had been startled to see that Arthur had been crying. Merlin had begun walking towards Arthur, his own tears falling, but Arthur had asked him to please leave, that it was too much and that he just wanted to be left alone.

Merlin wiped away another tear as the memory faded. He was here to see his mother, not to take a walk down memory lane. He cleared his throat and knocked on the door, steeling himself as he heard a familiar voice telling him to come in.

He opened the door and stuck his head around until he saw her. “Hey, Mum,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh, Merlin, get in here and let me see you, my boy,” she said, smiling.

Merlin entered the room and immediately felt like he was home. His mother had always made him feel that way. He approached her and was immediately enveloped in a hug. He allowed himself be taken back to when he was a small boy and his mother would hug him and tell him that no one would ever love him like his mother loved him.

When she released him, Merlin sat in the chair by the bed, but his mother was having none of that. She patted the space on the side of the bed and asked him to sit there so she could be closer to him.

[ ](https://imgur.com/PWXlEq1)

He acquiesced and took her hands in his. They were warm, just as they had always been. How many tears had they wiped away? How many meals had they prepared? How many times had those loving hands taken hold of his hand and led him in the right direction?

As expected, Merlin made it zero seconds before the tears began to spill over when his mother asked how he was. He did his best to answer, but it was as if he were suspended in some alternate reality. Nothing felt real. There was so much he wanted to say, and not nearly enough time for either. His mother was a shell of her former self, but she was still the most beautiful woman Merlin had ever known.

Why had he moved to Paris and left her all alone? Was Arthur worth it?

“I’m sorry, Mum. I should never have moved. I-” 

His mother shushed him with the stern look of hers that rarely made an appearance, but when it did, Merlin knew he should heed it. 

“I did not rear you to look after me, Merlin Ambrosius Emrys. There is nothing to be sorry for. You have no idea how much pleasure I derive from seeing you flourish. If you are fortunate enough one day to have a child of your own, you will understand."

Merlin nodded. He doubted that would ever happen, and his mother had to know in her heart that it was a mere dream, that men like him rarely experienced the joys and sorrows of parenting.

“Are you in pain?” he asked, finding it impossible to imagine her hurting. Perhaps he could use his magic to lessen her discomfort. He had promised her many years ago that he would never do that—it sapped his strength—but he had to try. Nothing he did would heal her, but any comfort he could give would be worth it.

He closed his eyes and concentrated, willing some of the magic thrumming through him to flow into his mother’s body. 

‘Merlin, stop this, love. I know you want to help, but you can do that by living your life. I’ve had my time here, love. Now it’s time for me to go.”

Her breathing was laboured. Merlin reluctantly opened his eyes and nodded as he wiped his eyes with his hand. He wasn’t ready to let her go.

She told him that as much as she didn’t want to leave him she was ready to see her husband. Merlin thought he could understand that. He had many friends, but he never would feel as safe anywhere else as he did when he was with Arthur.

The thought of spending eternity with the man he loved was such a wonderful thought; how could he not want his mother to experience that? But he hoped it wouldn’t be anytime too soon. Selfishly, he wasn’t ready to give her up.

“When they brought me here I had no idea it was Arthur’s former home, Merlin. It must be difficult for you to be here,” his mother said, a sweet look on her face as she moved the fringe from his eyes. “So, are you finally ready to tell me the real reason why you left Arthur and moved to Paris?”

Merlin was not ready to tell her, but he did owe his mother the truth, so he told her, almost verbatim what he had told Freya, and he cried harder than he had ever cried. He cried for all the days he had been away from his mother and Arthur. He cried for what had been taken from him so that Arthur could have what he now had.

It hurt to tell her, but it was also freeing.

“You must tell him, love. You do know that, yes?” Hunith said once Merlin had composed himself and was standing at the window looking out over the grounds, the same as Arthur had been that fateful day three years earlier.

“What if he has moved on, Mum? He hasn’t once written me. Morgana tells me he isn’t with anyone, but I think she would tell me what I want to hear to keep me from being sad.”

Merlin returned to the bed and lay his head beside his mother’s and wept for all he had lost and all he had yet to lose. His mother soothed him as she always had, her gentle hands carding through his hair. He closed his eyes and thought that if he tried he could fall asleep—he was so very tired—but he didn’t want to miss a moment of the remaining time he and his mother had together.

“Love, Arthur is not involved with anyone,” his mother said as she wiped his tears away. “Yes, he has been seeing a man called Myror recently, but according to my sources, which are impeccable, Arthur has ended that. He loves you, Merlin. He is not happy. Don’t you understand? You made it possible for him to have material things that perhaps Arthur thought he needed and wanted, but without you, none of it means anything to him. He loves _you_. I can assure you that nothing else matters to him. He wants and needs you, Merlin, not what you gave him when you left.

“I can’t tell you what to do, love, but I can tell you that it is time you told him both about your magic and about what you just told me. I can assure you he loves you enough to accept the first, and he will understand about the second.”

Merlin looked at his mother and nodded. He still had his doubts but knew in his heart that his mother was right. She was always right. “Do you really think he’ll forgive me?” he asked, hardly believing he was asking such. Was he seriously considering going after Arthur?

“I know he will, sweetheart. Now, you need to go find him and tell him the truth.”

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/hwmdSor)

 

Not one thing had changed about Ealdor since Arthur had last been here. Clotheslines bordered the yards, chickens roamed free between the homesteads, farmers were out tending their crops in the late evening twilight, and the occasional shrill scream and laughter meant that the children were out enjoying the last vestiges of daylight after finishing their chores.

He pulled up to Hunith’s house and turned off the motor but didn’t immediately get out, choosing instead to soak in his surroundings. Ealdor had, from the first time he visited, been a refuge for him. The constant noise of Camelot was absent here, and Arthur had enjoyed his daily walks with Merlin down to the pond that Hunith’s grandfather had carved out of the earth more than fifty years ago.

Climbing out of his motor he opened the back door and retrieved the bouquet of flowers he had picked from Elena’s garden for Hunith.

“She’s not here,” said a familiar voice that sounded strained.

Arthur closed the door and turned towards Will, worried when he saw how sullen the other looked. “Has she gone to hospital?”

Will nodded and motioned for Arthur to follow him inside.

Perhaps it should seem odd, Will going into Hunith’s house without her there, but Arthur knew how close Will was to Hunith and Merlin. Once inside, he took a seat across from Will.

“She’s at your home, Arthur (Even as he did not know Arthur well, he had never held much respect for titles and had always gone out of his way to not use Arthur’s title, not knowing that doing so was exactly what Arthur wanted),” Will said softly as he looked around the small room and sighed. “When she realised where they were taking her she asked to be placed somewhere else, but as Camelot is the closest, her doctor said it was best she go there.”

It made sense and Arthur was glad she was there, but the fact that she hadn’t wanted to go because of what it meant to her son… well, that heartened him.

“How is she?” Arthur asked, not really wanting to know.

“Not good, I’m sorry to say. She seemed fine last week but started having trouble breathing the night before last. Scared me shitless, Arthur. I thought she was going to die in my arms,” Will added, taking a deep breath.

Arthur listened to Will mourn their second mother for nearly an hour before regrettably standing to take his leave. He asked if Will wanted to go with him. Will declined, saying he hated hospitals and wanted to remember Merlin’s mother sitting in her little house, surrounded by the things she loved, but he did suggest Arthur stay the night and go see Hunith the following morning as it was late and she was likely to already be aleep.

Arthur nearly declined the offer, but when Will looked at him sadly, Arthur decided he could wait. Will probably needed someone to talk to. So did Arthur.

When he pulled into the drive of his former home the next morning, Arthur had so many things vying for his attention: Percival’s news about his uncle’s possible involvement in Merlin leaving (Percival hadn’t had time to tell Arthur everything he knew so Arthur had all manner of things running through his mind), a potential new job (Arthur both craved and loathed the experience of working at the castle that he and Merlin so loved), missing Merlin (this was a constant that would never leave him), and Merlin’s mother (knowing that one day soon she would be dead was almost more than Arthur could handle).

He parked and actually found himself smiling when he realised where he was. It had been this very spot where he and Merlin had helped fertilise the garden. Well, either that or they had killed it. He wasn’t sure which, seeing as how he and Merlin had no business thinking they could keep a garden without help (if only Merlin would have used his magic...).

But it had been a fun experiment, and they had done it together. It had all seemed so natural back then, as if each and every thing they did was some small part of a much bigger project. He had expected that they would continue as they had been forever.

Alas, they hadn’t and, as much as Arthur had pleaded in his mind for Merlin to come running back to him, begging for forgiveness, Arthur wasn’t at all sure he wanted that anymore.

What Merlin had done to him was beyond hurtful. Oh yes, Arthur was certain that there was a reason, and he even thought he might be getting closer to finding out what it was, but Merlin should have been honest with him.

It had taken three long years, but Arthur thought that he was finally ready to let go. He wasn’t at all happy about coming to such a conclusion, but it was better than him pining away for the rest of his life over someone he could never again have. But, even thinking all of this, Arthur knew that if Merlin appeared before him at this very moment, he wouldn’t think twice before running to him, embracing him, and forgiving him for leaving.

So Arthur would just have to hope that didn’t happen.

Yes, he would lie to himself if it helped him move on with his life. 

He needed to move on. Merlin was in his past, as was Pendragon Estates.

Arthur slowly walked up the pavement and tried not to think about all the times he had done this very thing, not once considering that the day would come when this land and home would not be his.

There was a time when he had thought the house too big, stifling. Now he would give just about anything to have it back.

He looked up and his eyes fell upon the large window of a room that had always been locked. Once, when he was probably about six or seven, he had asked his governess, Grunhilda, why no one ever went inside. She had said he wouldn’t understand and changed the subject. Even at such a young age Arthur had known she was hiding something from him.

Over the years he had tried gaining entrance to no avail. It wasn’t until his father’s death that Arthur finally got the key—George had it. He had been sworn to secrecy and told that only when Uther died could he give it to Arthur.

Remembering that day now, Arthur recalled that he had no longer wanted to go inside. The allure had left him, but he had taken the key, gone upstairs, and unlocked the door. He could still remember the uneasiness that filled him; his father hadn’t wanted him to see this room for a reason, and Arthur had stalled for minutes before pushing open the door.

It had been beautiful. Fresh flowers adorned the large escritoire, and there were large paintings on either side of it depicting small children running through large fields of roses.

Roses had been his mother’s favourite flower.

In the centre of the escritoire had been a parchment addressed to _My beautiful son_. It had been a letter from his mother to her unborn son. Arthur could still see the elegant handwriting and remember how he felt reading those words that he never had the opportunity to have her tell him. She had told him how much she loved him and how she could not wait to see him.

 _Your father is as ecstatic to see you as I am, Arthur love, but he would never say such. He carries himself stoically and wears a veneer of aegis, but I see the look in his eyes each evening as he places his head next to my stomach and tells you goodnight and that he cannot wait to see you. He will make such a wonderful father; I am so looking forward to seeing how you melt his heart in ways he didn’t think possible_.

 

If only that could have happened. Well, truth be told, it had, just not in the way his mother had hoped. Uther Pendragon had been a loving father and had doted on his son as well as he could for the first several years of his life. Unfortunately, those years seemed all but lost to Arthur now, replaced with memories of a cold and distant Uther.

Arthur shook his head. He couldn’t think about this now if he wanted to keep his composure.

He opened the front doors and took another deep breath as he looked around. It was eerie, this feeling that if he called out for his father, he would come walking into the foyer and ask what his son needed.

“My Lord,” said a voice from a few metres away.

Arthur was startled, but he quickly recovered and greeted the woman with a smile. He hadn’t expected to be recognised, but he shouldn’t be surprised. He wanted to tell the nurse that she need not address him as such, but he was still an Earl, whether he felt like one or not.

“I have come to see one of your patients, but before doing that I think I shall take a look around if that is alright,” he said.

“Yes, that would be fine. Please take your time, and if you have any questions, my name is Finna. I’ll be at the front desk,” she added as she looked over at the desk where the statue of Arthur’s great great great uncle had stood.

Unsure where he wanted to begin his ill-advised walk down memory lane, Arthur took the stairs two at a time until he reached the top. The first thing he noticed was the absence of the table where the photograph of his parents on their wedding day had been. Without it, the space looked barren. Perhaps that was best, though. The more different his surroundings looked, the less it would remind Arthur of his home… or that is what he kept telling himself.

Unable to face any more thoughts about his parents and how happy they must have been at their wedding, Arthur found himself walking towards his bedroom. There were numbers on each of the rooms, some of the doors open, others closed. Nurses walked the corridors. One or two of them smiled as he passed.

His bedroom door was open and a cursory glance inside told him that it was currently unoccupied, so he stepped inside and looked around. Two run-of-the-mill cast iron standard hospital beds with bedside tables replaced his large bed, but his wardrobe and escritoire remained, as did the ugly tall boy that he had always thought made his otherwise warm room appear cold and unwelcoming.

He stepped up to the large window that overlooked the expansive grounds that led to the pond and noticed that several benches had been erected. A few patients were seated on them. It was still somewhat cool outdoors, so Arthur hoped the nurses wouldn’t allow them to remain in the cool weather for too long.

Everywhere he looked there were memories, some of them good, some not. Part of him wanted to go outside and sit on one of those benches and allow his mind to take him back to happier times. He needed that so very badly, but he knew that with the good would come the bad, such as the day Merlin left.

After Merlin had gone, Arthur remembered standing at the window in Morgana’s room, the tears blurring his eyes as he watched the trees swaying in the spring winds. He had seen Merlin walking down towards the pond, wiping his eyes, so Arthur knew he was crying. And it was then that Arthur had got angry. He had taken a small vase that had been on the bedside table and thrown it across the room. But with the shattering of the vase, went Arthur’s heart and he had fallen on his half-sister’s bed and cried himself to sleep, waking up that evening to George shaking him.

Arthur remembered being embarrassed, but what stood out more about that night was that before George had left him minutes later, Arthur now in his own room, George had said that he didn’t think Master Merlin would be gone forever.

Oh how Arthur wished George had been right.

“I think you would be okay with this, Father,” he said softly. That his home was being used for good made him happy. Arthur would still rather it be his, but as that wasn’t possible, he guessed there was no better use of it. And knowing that Merlin’s mother was here, receiving excellent medical care, made him even happier that there was now somewhere close for her to go.

He watched the comings and goings of the patients and grinned when a small child ran up to one of the men. He picked her up and twirled her around. The child giggled.

The garden had seen so many memories, and there were ones yet to be made.

Time stood still for no one.

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/hwmdSor)

 

Merlin entered his mother’s room and immediately noticed the change—she was much paler this morning and her smile when she saw him was barely noticeable. The difference was stark, and it was then that it really hit him that his mother was going to die. He found himself panic-ridden, but he forced himself to get a hold of himself, and he tried valiantly to smile.

“Should I come back?” he asked the nurse that looked over at him when he entered.

“We are about to give her a bath. Could you give us half an hour?” she asked, looking apologetic.

Merlin nodded as he shared a smile with his mother. “Sure, yeah, I’ll just have a look around." But when he said this he was not smiling, nor was his mother, who had to know that Merlin wanted to do anything other than look around.

“The waiting room is on the ground floor to the right of the stairs. You can go warm up by the fire,” the nurse said kindly. “Someone can come get you when your mother is ready.”

Merlin shook his head. “Thank you, but I am going to have a look around if that’s okay. A good friend of mine grew up here and I want to see what all has been done in the three years I’ve been gone.”

He took his leave and headed towards Arthur’s room, but his attention was diverted when he noticed a gaggle of geese flying by the window at the end of the hall. Hands in his pockets, he slowly approached the window and looked out over the grounds.

The brick pavement that led down to the pond wended its way around the side of the house and reminded Merlin of late evening strolls with Arthur. It had been under that large beech tree that Arthur had asked Merlin to be his boyfriend, and it had been under the gazebo that was barely visible where Merlin and Uther Pendragon had shared a meal and got to know one another that same day.

Merlin had met and tended Uther when he’d been ill after a bout with cholera, but the patient was far different than the man.

It had been an intense meeting, but in the end it had gone well and Uther had assured Merlin that he would always be welcomed at Pendragon Estates as long as he made Arthur happy.

Merlin wondered what Uther Pendragon would think of him now? Most likely he wouldn’t be overly happy. He had been a difficult man to get to know, but once Merlin had begun to fathom him out and understand what made him upset and what made him happy, Merlin had cherished the times he and the Pendragon patriarch spent talking about Arthur and about what Uther hoped for his children’s future.

On one occasion, Arthur’s father had shown Merlin—not at all intentionally, of course—where he had punched the wall in the Drawing Room the day his wife had died after giving birth to Arthur. The memory was so very vivid. Merlin hadn’t been in that room since, but he guessed the indentation would still be there, cemented in time as a testament to the sorrow one man experienced on a rainy April evening.

Several merlins appeared outside the window and made Merlin grin. All of his friends thought he had been named for the sorcerer of legend, but it had, in fact, been these birds that had been the inspiration.

Morgana had teased him and said that his mother must have known he would one day fall in love with his future king, Arthur, so that is why she named him Merlin.

The memory made Merlin chuckle.

He hadn’t been away from Paris a week, but already he missed her and Gwen. They were his comfort these days. They never allowed him to get too morose. Well, Gwen did on occasion—she said it was normal to be sad—but Morgana seemed to be on a mission to never let Merlin be sad again.

The merlins flew to the edge of another tree, one that Merlin recalled climbing one day about three years ago. He had been long past the days when it was permissible for a boy to climb trees for fun, but he and Arthur had been adventurous and had decided to give it a try. Merlin had used his gangly limbs to get up in no time, but Arthur had struggled. Merlin had ended up helping Arthur into the tree and the two had proceeded to kiss and do other things up in that tree, the memories of which made his face turn red.

It was also on the trunk of said tree that Morgana, Gwen, Arthur, and he had carved their initials the day Morgana and Gwen left to move to Paris, almost five years ago. It had been Arthur’s idea. Morgana had thought it a silly one, but Gwen had taken the offered knife and carefully carved her initials in before handing it to Morgana, who had sighed exaggeratedly before adding her own initials beneath Gwen’s. She placed a heart in the middle and then dated it. She then handed the knife to Merlin, who added his initials and a heart beneath it. Arthur finished by adding his initials. They had made a promise to one another to meet back at this tree at least once every year.

Merlin took a deep breath. That day seemed so long ago now, like a dream. He had been happy and looking forward to the future.

Now all he wanted to do was look back to the past.

He turned away from the window and began walking towards Arthur’s room, wanting to see it, yet not. The memory of the look on Arthur’s face when he realised Merlin was truly leaving him still to this day haunted Merlin.

He should have never allowed Arthur’s uncle to bully him into leaving, but he had and nothing he could say or do would erase that now.

He approached the room and was happy to see that the door was open, which meant there was probably no one occupying it. But as he took a step inside he noticed he wasn’t alone; there was someone standing by the window.

Someone who looked eerily similar to Arthur.

Merlin froze.

No. That wasn’t possible. Why would Arthur be here? But the answer was obvious. 

He would be here for the same reason Merlin was.

If he wanted to, Merlin knew he could silently back away and leave—Arthur seemed to be deep in thought and had no clue he was being observed—but there was a reason Merlin had seen Arthur. If he left now he really was giving up on what might be, and he didn’t want that.

He had been a coward, but the time for that was long past. It was time to be brave and to move forward, whatever that meant.

Arthur looked just as he had that day they had parted; it was as if time had stood still, but of course it hadn’t. Since that day Arthur’s father had died and Merlin’s mother had got sick and would most likely soon die.

Merlin was too far away to touch Arthur, but he reached out his hand as if he were tracing Arthur’s face. Seeing him looking out that window and knowing he must be sad hurt; Merlin wanted to run to him, embrace him, and tell him that everything would be okay and they would get through this together.

But he had given up his right to do that, hadn’t he?

Merlin wondered if this Myror bloke was helping Arthur get through this. Was he a good listener? Was he able to coax Arthur to talk on those nights when he withdrew into himself? Because Merlin knew from experience that Arthur needed to be coaxed into talking. He hoped Myror knew that.

He took a step. Then another. And another. He was terrified, but there wasn’t a force in this world that could keep Merlin from going to Arthur now.

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/hwmdSor)

 

Arthur had wasted enough time lamenting a past that would do nothing but impede his future. It was time for him to move on. His past had been wonderful—the best, really—but he was young yet and had much to look forward to. So what if it wasn’t with Merlin? Yes, Arthur had told Myror he didn’t think they were working and asked him to leave—but maybe he should give him another chance. Arthur would never be happy again if he passed on everyone who wasn’t like Merlin.

There would never be another Merlin.

He smiled as a group of birds landed in the tree near the window. He wasn’t sure but he thought they were merlins. Which was typical. Of all the birds in the universe, the ones Arthur saw just had to be merlins.

He nodded curtly, not sure why—it wasn’t as if the birds knew what he meant—and turned to leave.

And Merlin stood before him, looking petrified and ethereal, his hands reaching out towards Arthur's.

He was the most beautiful thing Arthur had ever seen in his life.

“Merlin,” he said in little more than a whisper as he took Merlin's hand in his, not quite believing what he was seeing.

[ ](https://imgur.com/CApxPHP)

“Arthur,” Merlin said, looking very much as if he were about to cry.

Arthur understood. He didn’t know what to say or do. He could only hope this wasn’t a cruel joke. “Is it really you?”

Merlin grinned and touched himself. “Yeah, really me. I came to see my mother.”

Arthur wanted so very badly to hug Merlin, but would Merlin be okay with that? He opened his mouth to ask, but didn’t have a chance because he found himself with an armful of Merlin, and then they were hugging each other for dear life. Arthur could hear Merlin crying, and he knew he was doing the same, but he didn’t care.

It felt so very good to hold Merlin again. Arthur smelled his hair and ran his hands through it. He still didn’t believe this was happening.

“So sorry, Arthur,” Merlin whispered. “So, so sorry.”

Arthur shushed Merlin and just enjoyed holding him for a few seconds more before he gently stepped back so he could get a proper look at him. “How is your mother? I went to Ealdor last night to see her, but Will said they transferred her here.”

“Yeah, she isn’t doing so well. We had a good visit yesterday, but today she seems worse. The nurses were about to give her a bath when I got here, so I told them I would come back. I should probably go see her now. Will you come with me?”

Arthur nodded but found he had no voice at the moment. He still couldn’t believe he was looking at Merlin. In person.

“She’s in Morgana’s room,” said Merlin, looking none-too-happy.

“Fate has a funny way of spitting in our faces doesn’t it?” said Arthur, dreading seeing Merlin’s sick mother and Morgana’s room. “So do you think she will get better?” Arthur asked, knowing it was a horrible question. He already knew the answer, and it was unfair to ask Merlin to say so.

As expected, Merlin shook his head and sighed. “It’s spread to her lungs they say. It’ll be quick now. No one has said, but being a doctor, I know she’ll more than likely be gone by the start of the next month.” Merlin turned away and wiped at the tears that were threatening to fall.

Arthur disliked seeing anyone cry, but the vision of Merlin unable to control his emotions was unbearable.

“Come here, you,” he said, and he took Merlin in his arms and let him cry some more. “This parents’ dying thing is the worst. It’s so unfair.” Arthur ran his hands through Merlin’s hair and rubbed his shoulders as he kissed his forehead. “Your mother does not deserve this.”

And it was this that elicited a response from Merlin, who lifted his head and wiped his nose on his shirtsleeve. “I wish I could take her place. I deserve it for what I did to you, Arthur.”

“Stop talking nonsense, Merlin. This is shite, but you going off and making stupid remarks won’t help.” 

Arthur was now angry, truly angry. He knew Merlin was hiding something from him—he’d known since Merlin ran off with his proverbial tail between his legs—but this here, saying he deserved to die, would not do anyone any good.

Arthur wanted to get the truth from Merlin this very moment, but this was neither the time nor the place. “I do hope you will be here for a while. I mightn’t be able to talk you into staying permanently, but I’ll be damned if I’m letting you go without us having a chance to talk. You have some things to clue me in on, and you are not going anywhere until you do.”

Arthur hadn’t meant to be so cross, and he hadn’t meant to sound threatening, but didn’t he deserve to know what exactly was going on that he had not been told about? Especially since he had a sinking feeling that all of this had his uncle written all over it.

Could Agravaine really have orchestrated Merlin leaving? As much as Arthur didn’t want to believe that, it now seemed rather obvious that he probably had. Arthur hadn’t had the opportunity to question his uncle, but he would as soon as his uncle returned from wherever he had gone on his latest business trip.

Thank goodness for Percival and Leon and their indefatigable search for the truth. It was them who had told Arthur Merlin more than likely wasn’t the one to blame for his leaving.

And, speaking of Merlin, he was being overly quiet, and he looked rather petrified. Arthur couldn’t have that. “Before we go see your mum, you are going to have to smile for me. Just once. Just so I know you can. You can smile, can you not?” he said, feeling somewhat foolish, but when Merlin grinned, Arthur felt justified. “There, I knew you had it in you.”

“You are such a clotpole, Arthur,” Merlin said, shaking his head and hiding another small smile.

“Idiot,” was Arthur’s rejoinder.

They continued this banter until they were at the door to Morgana’s room. Arthur took a deep breath and knocked as he wrapped an arm around Merlin’s shoulder and pulled him close. He probably shouldn’t have done that, but he felt emboldened now that he thought he had rather figured out what was going on.

“Come in,” Merlin’s mother said, and hearing it did wonders for Arthur. He had missed her so much.

“Ready?” he asked Merlin, who had lost the smile and replaced it with a deep frown. Arthur squeezed his shoulder slightly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Merlin took a deep breath and opened the door. He poked his head around the corner. “I have a surprise for you, Mum,” he said before looking back at Arthur and pulling him into the room behind him.

When Arthur saw Merlin’s mother, he had to hide his shock. She had always been small, but now she looked gaunt. But she was still Merlin’s mother, and Arthur loved her like he knew he would love his own mother.

“Arthur!” she said, a huge smile on her face. She then placed a hand over her heart. “You are a sight for sore eyes, love.”

“As are you, Hunith,” was Arthur’s giddy response. He had no idea that seeing two people in one day could so right his world, but it had. He felt like a new person and never wanted to go back to feeling like he had that morning. 

He approached the bed and leant down to kiss Hunith on the forehead, which was much too warm. When he stood again Merlin was there with his hand, and it was the most natural thing in the world for Arthur to take it in his.

Hunith didn’t miss this and looked happy yet troubled as her eyes flitted between the two. “The two of you are grown men and can sort out your troubles, but I do hope neither of you will hurt the other like you did in the past.” It was clear that she was directing this to her son.

Merlin didn’t reply, but he did squeeze Arthur’s hand. “How was your bath, Mum?” he asked, no doubt attempting to turn the conversation away from him and Arthur.

“It was rather nice. Not quite to par with a bath from home, mind, but we can’t always have what we want can we?” she said, again giving Arthur and Merlin knowing looks. “Pardon my forthrightness, but as I am dying, I think I am entitled. For three years the two of you have been apart. Now the two of you are holding hands and giving each other looks that are reminiscent of those of the past. What happened?” She looked in between the two, but then she smiled as she settled her attention on her son. She winked and nodded and let out a small sigh as she wiped a tear from her eye.

Arthur didn’t miss this exchange and was curious what it meant as he looked to Merlin, who had been the one to leave him three years ago, for an answer. Now he was back, allowing Arthur to take his hand and hug him. For all Arthur knew, this was just a one-time thing and they would soon go back to how they had been. Hunith wasn’t the only one with questions. Arthur hoped that Merlin was at long last ready to tell him the truth.

Merlin cleared his throat and looked between his mother and Arthur. “I think I made a mistake three years ago, but I don’t know how to right it.”

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/hwmdSor)

 

This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. But here Merlin was, standing beside Arthur as they looked at Arthur’s new home. Arthur had said he wanted to show Merlin where he now lived and talk, and like the fool he was, Merlin had said yes. But he could do this. He would listen to what Arthur needed to say, then he would get in his car and drive back to see his mother.

Yes, he had almost decided that he needed to tell Arthur the truth, but could he really do that? He didn’t think so. Perhaps not doing so meant he was a coward, but then again he had known that from the moment he’d left Arthur three years ago.

Merlin studied the smaller-than Pendragon Estates-but-still-far-bigger-than-anything-Merlin-had-ever-imagined-living-in house, and goggled. Arthur laughed beside him. Merlin looked at him quizzically.

“Your look of wonderment will never cease to surprise me, Merlin,” Arthur said as he loosened his tie. “I admit that when I decided to buy this place, I did so because the thought of you running around from room to room, looking back at me like a little kid, was one I couldn’t get out of my mind. Silly, but there you have it.”

“Not silly at all,” Merlin replied distractedly as his heart leapt at the thought of Arthur thinking about him in such a way. It made him want to go to Arthur and hug him and tell him everything would be fine. But it wouldn’t, and his being here was unfair to Arthur, because Merlin knew that Arthur now had false hope.

“Will you please tell me the truth about why you left?” Arthur asked, the laughter now completely gone, replaced with such consternation that it broke Merlin’s heart. “You evaded the question when your mother asked, but I’m hoping you’ll answer me.”

“You know why, Arthur,” Merlin replied, but he couldn’t quite look Arthur in the eye. “Mum was struggling to make ends meet after my father’s death. It vexed me to leave—you have no idea how much—but I had to do it. I know I hurt you badly, and now I wish I hadn’t left at all, but at the time I thought that I had no choice.”

Merlin knew that Arthur didn’t believe a word of what he’d said. “Please don’t make me go through all of this again, Arthur. Leaving you was the hardest thing I have ever done.”

Arthur looked hurt, but he nodded as he unlocked the front door. “So, you won’t stay. You’ll go back to Paris after your mother dies?”

Merlin nodded, but when he realised Arthur couldn’t see him because he was looking at the door, he sighed. “Yeah.” It was no more than a whisper, but when Arthur turned his head towards him, it was obvious he had heard. Merlin felt horrible, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if Arthur told him to leave, that he never wanted to see him again, but he knew that would never happen. Arthur would never ask Merlin to leave.

Merlin entered the foyer and gasped, suddenly finding it difficult to catch his breath. The large painting—the one of Arthur’s ancestor and his dog that Merlin had loved so much was on the wall to his right. He brought a hand to his mouth and turned to Arthur.

Merlin hated himself.

“That was the only piece of art we decided to take from Pendragon Estates. It is rightfully Morgana’s, but when you moved in with her and Gwen, she had it shipped to me and asked me to keep it for her. She said it would be too hard for you to see it each day.” 

There was so much love pouring out of Arthur that it made Merlin want to weep.

Damn these Pendragons for being so thoughtful. Merlin turned around and walked out the door. He couldn’t do this. 

Damn Agravaine!

Merlin ran to his car, but he hadn’t opened the door when Arthur caught up with him and managed to turn him around. Merlin wouldn’t look at Arthur, but he didn’t fight him.

“Merlin, please look at me,” Arthur said, his voice trembling and filled with too much emotion. “Please.”

Merlin shook his head frantically. “Let me go. Just please let me go. I can’t do this. I can’t be here. I can’t. It’s bad enough my mother is dying. I can’t lose her, but I don’t have a choice. But I do have a choice here, and I cannot bear to lose you again.” Then he did look up and caressed Arthur’s face. “I love you, Arthur. I always will.” Then he was hugging Arthur. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but staying away from Arthur had been physically exhausting and having him here now was a temptation he couldn’t resist.

Arthur took off his suit coat and helped Merlin put it on before leading him inside to the sofa. They sat down, and Merlin laid his head in Arthur’s lap and closed his eyes as Arthur threaded his fingers through his hair.

He must have fallen asleep. When he woke, feeling even more sapped of energy than he had before, he slowly sat up and noticed that Arthur was sleeping. 

He had to be uncomfortable. Merlin traced his face with a finger and soaked in the beauty of Arthur. He missed him so much.

Unable to stop himself he leant in and lightly kissed Arthur on the corner of his mouth. Thankfully, Arthur didn’t move. Merlin again kissed those lips, this time, covering them with his own. And this time, Arthur did move and soon he was kissing Merlin back.

Merlin pulled back, but when Arthur whispered _please_ , Merlin knew he was lost. He leant in and kissed Arthur and rejoiced when he was kissed back. They continued like this for some time. There were distant noises outdoors, but within the walls of Arthur’s home, there was only the occasional sound of a moan or a kiss.

Eventually it became too much, and Merlin needed more. He forced himself to pull back. He didn’t think he had a right to ask this, but he was going to. Arthur could, if he so wished, tell him to go bugger off. “Lead me to your bed, Arthur, and please make love to me.”

Without a word, Arthur picked up Merlin and carried him up the stairs and through the corridor until they reached a room with double doors. Merlin then closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Arthur. He had missed this.

“Are you sure you want this, Merlin? Are you really sure?” Arthur asked, anguish in his voice.

Merlin nodded selfishly. This would only hurt Arthur more, but he couldn’t resist taking what he could. Merlin needed Arthur like he needed air. “Please.”

Merlin was gently placed under the covers, and he felt as Arthur got in beside him.

“Sleep. We can do this when you wake; you are exhausted.”

Merlin wished to protest because he knew that once this moment passed them by it would not come again, but he was exhausted, so he reluctantly closed his eyes.

He was awakened by a lovely mouth on his cock. He raised his arms over his head and stretched as he opened his eyes and looked through his eyelashes at Arthur. “Good morning.”

Rather than speaking, Arthur chose that moment to give a rather urgent suckle of Merlin’s cock, and Merlin grabbed the sheets and scrunched his eyes closed. This felt so good. Merlin didn’t know how he had ever given this up. “That mouth of yours is too lovely for words, Arthur.” But if he thought that was good, he had no idea, and when a finger breached his anus he bucked off the bed and exploded in a world of white and black. He was sure he would faint or die from the pleasure coursing through him.

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/hwmdSor)

 

When Arthur awoke, he was alone. It was no different from what he had expected, yet it still hurt. He slowly extricated himself from the bed, which looked like a cyclone had blown through, and found his dressing gown. 

He should go have a bath as he was sticky and smelled of sex, but he was famished. Lovemaking had always left him ravenous.

There was no sign of Merlin anywhere. Once upon a time there would have been a sock, a tie, or scarf left behind, but not today, and it made Arthur sad. But he did not for one second regret what he’d done.

He made his way down the stairs, remembering how it had felt to carry Merlin up the stairs last night. Merlin was no lightweight, but Arthur had loved the feel of him in his arms again. Would he have another opportunity to hold Merlin in his arms? 

The doorbell rang.

Arthur’s initial thought was to ignore it; he wasn’t presentable, and George, who would normally have answered it, was away tending to family business. But on second thought, Arthur knew it was probably Merlin, because very few people had his security code. With a grin on his face Arthur rushed down the remaining steps until he was standing in the foyer. He took a deep breath, looked down to make sure his dressing gown was fastened, and opened the door just enough to make sure it was Merlin and not someone else.

It was Myror.

Arthur swallowed. He had forgot that Myror had his security code, but as he and Myror had agreed that it was best they end things when they’d last gone out, Arthur hadn’t expected to see him again. So why was he here now?

“Pardon me, Arthur. It appears I have interrupted you,” he said, but he made no move to leave.

Arthur was sure he blushed. “Yes, well, as you can see, I was in the middle of something, so perhaps we can talk later?” There was nothing further to discuss, but he would say whatever he needed to so Myror would leave. 

“Yeah, that would be good, Arthur. Maybe at The Rising Sun Saturday evening at seven?”

Not having much of a choice, Arthur nodded. “Until then.” He began closing the door, but no sooner had he looked down towards the door knob when the door opened and a knife was shoved into his chest.

[ ](https://imgur.com/qlVZ3f7)

Arthur saw it all in slow motion. He felt the flesh as it ripped and saw the blood as it began to spill. He also saw the wicked grin on Myror’s face. Arthur felt immense pain and opened his mouth, but everything went black.

  
**Ten Days Later…**  


 

He woke up in hospital, more specifically, his old bedroom, and Merlin was sitting beside him, holding his hand and looking at him with worry.

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but the attempt resulted in scarcely more than a grunt; his throat hurt, and he realised he was parched. How long had it been since he’d had something to drink? And why was his throat on fire? He pointed to it. 

Thankfully, Merlin got the hint and presented him with a glass of water. Arthur gratefully accepted Merlin’s help and took a few small sips. He wanted more, but Merlin told him to slow down. 

Once his head was settled back on the pillow, he stared at Merlin. What happened? He vaguely remembered Myror and a knife, but that didn’t make sense. Why would Myror have put a knife through him?

“What happened?” he asked, his voice raspy as he attempted to push himself up so he could see around him, but this had been the wrong thing to do. He gasped and heard himself making other pained noises as he tried to catch his breath. It felt like his chest were on fire. 

Arthur closed his eyes and tried to breathe in and out in time with Merlin’s calming words. It took a while—seemed like an eternity—but the pain eventually eased enough for him to open his eyes. He was exhausted, but he needed to know why he felt as if he should be dead. 

He looked into Merlin’s eyes. For three years he had wanted nothing more than to do this very thing. Was fate to be so unkind that it would bring Merlin back into his life only to have Arthur killed? The thought hurt almost as much as his chest. “Please, Merlin, tell me what happened.”

“Ten days ago some bloke named Myror used your chest as a training ground for how to put a knife through an enemy,” Merlin said in little more than a whisper as he wiped Arthur’s face with a flannel. “He is in custody. As is Agravaine. It seems your uncle hired Myror Bounty and some lady named Nimueh to kill you, Arthur. They are looking for her.” Merlin moved some fringe out of Arthur’s eyes and looked miserable. “We almost lost you.”

Agravaine? Arthur couldn’t quite bring himself to reconcile what he’d heard with the man who had once promised to protect Arthur. Even as he had thought that perhaps his uncle was behind what had happened with Merlin, he didn’t want to believe that his uncle would be capable of trying to have his nephew killed. It seemed impossible to believe. But Merlin wouldn’t have lied about that. It had to be the truth.

Arthur wanted to ask Merlin if Agravaine had said anything about why he had done this, but he already knew the answer. His uncle wanted the money. Merlin had been right three years ago when he questioned Agravaine’s intentions.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, his voice as steady as he could make it, “I want the truth. Did you move to Paris because my uncle forced you to? Did he threaten you or me?” Arthur closed his eyes again as more pain lanced through him, but he quickly reopened them, somewhat afraid that if he so much as blinked Merlin would disappear.

“Yes,” Merlin said, his voice tremulous with sadness as he ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair. “He threatened to keep the money your mother left for you if I remained a part of your life.” Merlin turned his head away and looked towards the window. “I never wanted to leave. But I didn’t know what to do.”

“Well,” Arthur said, not believing he was having this conversation, “you could have told me.” But when Merlin abruptly turned back towards him with a crestfallen expression, Arthur swallowed every acerbic word he had been seconds away from berating his idiotic but good-hearted former lover with. There would be time for that later. “If I ever have the opportunity I will make my uncle pay for what he has done.”

Everything that had happened was almost impossible to take in, and it was too much to accept, but the only thing Arthur cared about at the moment was Merlin, who was looking at him with so much worry that it made Arthur want to go squeeze the life out of Agravaine and Myror. How dare they hurt his precious Merlin.

“I wish you would have been honest with me from the beginning, Merlin—it would have saved us all much grief—but what is done is done and I will not lose you again,” Arthur said, making a point to stare into Merlin’s eyes to let him see the depth of his love. “I want you to move back to Camelot. I have been without you for far too long and don’t want to spend another moment apart. Will you at least think about it?”

Before Merlin, who suddenly looked completely bereft, could answer, Morgana and Gwen bounded through the door, flowers and chocolates in hand. 

Morgana looked around and rolled her eyes. “Only you would end up back in your childhood bedroom after being stabbed by your lover who was hired by your uncle to murder you, brother dear.”

She set the flowers on the bedside table and leant down to kiss Arthur on the forehead. “And as if all of that were not enough,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “I just heard that apparently magic was used on you. That was why you felt such a connection with Myror. I should have figured it out sooner when you told me how you felt this weird sense of being pulled towards him, but I guess I was so happy for you that I didn’t want to think the attraction wasn’t the real thing.”

At this, Morgana looked at Merlin, who was quietly talking to Gwen. She frowned and took a deep breath as she watched the two, but then she let out a small chuckle before returning her attention to her brother. “Of course you would have never fathomed the magic out yourself; you are about as oblivious as a log on fire.”

Arthur was affronted. Just because he had never said anything about Merlin didn’t mean he didn’t know. And just how did Morgana know about Merlin’s magic? Had Merlin told her? Had he told Gwen? Arthur felt somewhat hurt, but he let it go; there would be time to think about that later. 

“Who said I wasn’t aware of what is going on before my eyes, Morgana?” He shared a pointed, knowing look with his sister before he glanced at Merlin. Arthur might have stuck out his tongue when he turned back towards his sister. 

“I’ve missed you,” he said, meaning it. Life just wasn’t quite the same when she wasn’t near. Morgana responded by taking a shaky breath, as if she were about to cry, but true to her Pendragon Englishness, she recovered spectacularly and graced him with a smile. 

She cleared her throat. “Must you outdo me at every turn, Arthur? I thought sweeping my lover off her feet and whisking her away to Paris was the height of gaucheness, but as always, you have to prove me wrong.”

Gwen, her conversation with Merlin over, set the chocolates down beside the flowers before leaning down to kiss Arthur on his cheek. “Don’t listen to a word she says, Arthur.”

Morgana walked over to Merlin and hugged him. They shared words that Arthur would never be privy to. Of course he wanted to know what they were saying, but he understood that his sister and Merlin were friends, and he realised that he was not the only person Merlin talked to. It was actually comforting for Arthur to know Merlin had someone like Morgana in his life. 

It looked as if she wiped a tear from Merlin’s cheek. 

Arthur froze and a feeling of overwhelming dread suffused him as he took a deep breath. No one had said anything about Hunith. “Your mother. How is your mother, Merlin?” Had she died? Arthur felt ill at the thought.

“She’s gone,” Merlin said quietly, his voice breaking as he walked back to Arthur’s side and leant down to kiss his forehead. When he pulled away he frowned. He ran a hand through Arthur’s fringe. “Your forehead is warm. Perhaps Morgana, Gwen, and I should leave and let you rest,” he said, his voice now devoid of his former emotion as he attempted to withdraw his arms from Arthur’s grasp, but Arthur only tightened his hold. There was no way he was allowing Merlin to leave. Not now.

Arthur didn’t know what to say. Hunith was gone? How could that be? “Hunith is gone?” he asked, his own voice breaking. She was the closest he would ever come to having a mother and now she was gone? It wasn’t at all right. He shook his head as he ran his thumbs over Merlin’s hands. “Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Merlin said, swallowing. “The funeral was yesterday. I wanted to wait for you; it didn’t seem right to bury her without you, but she needed to be put to rest.” He wiped a tear away. “We can talk more about Mum later. You are running a fever and need to rest,” is what Merlin said, but it was clear to everyone that what he was really doing was asking them to please stop, that he couldn’t do this now.

Arthur understood. He didn’t like it, but he would respect Merlin’s wishes, because that is what you did when you loved someone. ”Please stay for a while longer,” he pleaded, not wanting to be left alone yet. “We don’t have to talk about your mother,” he added softly. “Not until you are ready.”

Merlin looked up towards the ceiling and took a deep breath. “I’ll never be ready, but before she passed, she asked me to give you a message, and I don’t think it can wait,” Merlin said, without any tears, but his voice was filled with emotion as he returned his gaze to Arthur. “She loves you and wants you to do what the doctors say. So you need to do that. For her.” At this, Merlin chuckled, and a tear followed. “I think she knows that you have a problem listening.” 

Morgana’s chuckle was not at all quiet.

Arthur looked affronted, but he couldn’t deny that Hunith Emrys had it right. “I will be good and do what I am told… for her, Merlin.” 

The grin Merlin graced him with was a dose of medicine that money couldn’t buy. “We were interrupted earlier, but I asked you a question,” Arthur said, feeling another wave of tiredness washing over him. “It hardly seems appropriate to ask this of you now, but will you consider moving back to Camelot?”

“Of course I’ll come back.” Merlin took Arthur’s hands in his and brought them to his lips, placing kisses on each knuckle.

Arthur very nearly let out a sob, but he held it in as he looked around at everyone standing in his room.

He had to be the most fortunate person alive. He was surrounded by family and friends, which included the man he loved with all his heart, and he was in the bedroom he had grown up in.

Merlin sat down on the edge of Arthur’s bed. “I need to go back to Paris and tie up loose ends, but I am coming back to you, Arthur. Nothing or no one will ever keep us apart again.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Arthur said before Merlin leant down and pecked him on the nose. “I have been approached by local politicians about taking over the Camelot Castle renovation project. I want you to help me. It’s a daunting undertaking, but between my brains and your magic, Merlin, I think we make a pretty good team, you and me.”

When Merlin opened his mouth to respond, a look of horror on his face, Arthur was somewhat sad to halt the words Merlin was about to speak, but he decided that it was best if he showed Merlin straight away that he didn't care about the magic.

Arthur nearly said something flippant about Merlin thinking he could hide his magic from him, but there would be time for words later. All the time in the world. There was only one thing Arthur wanted to do at the moment, and neither a stab wound, overwhelming tiredness, or nosey onlookers (Morgana looked positively giddy as she looked inbetween Merlin and him) would stop him.

He put a hand behind Merlin’s head and slowly brought it down until there was little space between them, and mouthed _I love you_ before kissing him. It was not much more than a peck, but it was enough, and when a collective sigh made its way around the room, they kissed again. This time the kiss was not at all chaste. 

Yes, his chest was again smarting horribly as his wound was jostled, and he felt lightheaded, but as Arthur reluctantly pulled back and rested his head on the pillow, he couldn’t care less.

Agravaine had stolen three years from Merlin and him, but Arthur would be damned if he allowed his uncle to keep them apart a moment longer.

[ ](https://imgur.com/8qWCb4m)

[ ](https://imgur.com/hwmdSor)

**Author's Note:**

> I always knew this story would be special to me, but having finished it and seeing LFB's amazing art within makes me immensely happy. This is a story about love, loss, and second chances. We all deserve the first, most of us are worthy of the last, and we’ll all experience the middle. Life is a gift filled with ups and downs; try to enjoy it, and never take a second of it for granted.
> 
> Please don't forget to click on [LFBs AMAZING ART](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15725898) and leave her some love for the wonderful nine pieces and scene divider she did for this story! I am still in awe each time I look at them.


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